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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


86    0  3 


Engraved  by  W-Holl. 


<m  C  ^MadjdeMti 


PubluhtdJ)*-'~2ff*-i0ii,by  F.Ci:J.lUt-iryton..l-lhc  other  Proprietors. 


THE 

PLAYS 

OF 

WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE. 

IN  TWENTY-ONE  VOLUMES. 

WITH 

THE  CORRECTIONS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS 

OF 

VARIOUS  COMMENTATORS. 

TO    WHICH    ARE   ADDED, 


NOTES, 


SAMUEL  JOHNSON  AND  GEORGE  STEEVENS. 

REVISED    AND   AUGMENTED 

BY  ISAAC  REED, 

WITH   A  GLOSSARIAL  INDEX. 
THE  SIXTH  EDITION. 


THS  ♦T2EA3  rPAMMATCTI  HN,  TON    KAAAMON  AITOBPEXJ1N    EIJ  KOTN. 

Vtt.  Auct.  apud  Siiidanu 
Time,  which  is  continually  washing  away  the  dissoluble  Fabricks  of  other 
Poets,  passes  without  Injury  by  the  Adamant  of  Shakspeark. 

Dr.  Johnson's  Preface. 

Mf  LTA  DIES,  VARIUSQLT.  LABOR  MLTABILIS  KV\ 
RETULIT  IV  MELIUS,  MULTOS  ALTERNA  KEVISENS 
LL'SIT,  ET  IN  SOLIDO  RURSl  S  FORTUXA  LOCAVTT. 

Virgil. 


LONDON: 

Printed  for  J.  Nichols  and  Son ;  F.  C.  and  J.  Rivington ;  J.  Stockdale ; 
W.  Lowndes;  G.  Wilkie  and  J.  Robinson;  T.  Egerton ;  J.Walker; 
Scatcherd  and  Letterman  ;  W.  Clarke  and  Sons;  J.  Barker;  J.  Cuthell ; 
R.  Lea ;  Lackington  and  Co. ;  J.  Deighton ;  J.  White  and  Co. ;  B.  Crosby 
and  Co  ;  W.  Earle;  J.Gray  and  Son;  Longman  and  Co.;  Cadell  and 
Davics  ;  J.  Harding  ;  R.  H.  Evans  ;  J.  Booker;  S.  Bagster  ;  J.Mawman  ', 
Black  and  Co.;  J.  Black;  J.  Richardsou ;  J.  Booth;  Newman  and 
Co.;  R.  Pheney;  R.  Scholey ;  J.  Murray;  J.  Aspcrne ;  J.  Faulder: 
B.Baldwin;  Cradock  and  Joy  ;  Sharpc  and  Hailes;  Johnson  and  Co.: 
Gale  and  Co. ;  G.  Robinson  ;  C  Brown  ;  and  Wilson  and  Son,  York. 


1813. 


30334 


CONTENTS, 


K15  3 
3  L3 


VOL.  I. 

Advertisement      -----  i 

Advertisement  by  Mr.  Reed  xi 

Advertisement  by  Mr.  Steevens  1 

Preface  to  Mr.  Ricfiardson' 's  Proposals,  fyc.  -  4 

Proposals  by  William  Richardson         -         -  14 

Supplement  to  Proposals      -         -         -         -  1 7 
Advertisement  by  Mr.  Steevens  to  edition  of  I 793   24 

Rowe's  Life  of  Shakspeare,  $c.  57 

Anecdotes  of  Shah  spear  e  from  Oldys,  §c.       -  120 

Baptisms,  Marriages,  fyc.            -         -         -  132 

Shakspeare* s  Coat  of  Arms           -         -         -  146 

Shakspeare* s  Mortgage                -         -         -  149 

Shakspeare* s  Will       -         -         -         -         -  154 

Dedication  by  Hemings  and  Condell     -         -  1 63 

Preface  by  ditto 166 

by  Pope 168 

by  Theobald            .         -         -         -  1 88 

by  Hanmer              -  222 

— — -  by  Warburton         -  226 

by  Johnson     -         -         -        -         -  245 

Advertisement  to  twenty  Plays,  by  Steevens  -  311 

Preface  by  CapeU 326 

Advertisement  by  Steevens   -  396 

Preface  by  M.  Mason         -  417 

Advertisement  by  Reed       -         -         -         -  421 

Preface  by  Malone 424 


CONTENTS. 

VOL.  II. 

Dr.  Farmer's  Essay  on  the  Learning  ofShak- 

speare 1 

Colmafi's  Remarks  on  it  -         -         -       87 

Ancient  Trati stations from  Classick  Authors  -  92 
Entries  of  Shakspeare*  s  Plays  on  the  Sta- 
tioners3 Books  -  -  .  -  -  119 
List  of  ancient  Editions  of  Shakspeare' s  Plays  139 
List  of  modern  Editions  -  -  -  -  1 48 
List  of  ancient  Editions  of  Shakspeare' s  Poems  152 
List  of  modern  ditto  -  -  -  -  1 53 
List  of  altered  Plays  from  Shakspeare  -  156 
List  of  detached  Pieces  of  Criticism  on  Shak- 
speare, his  Editors,  fyc.  -  -  -  1 67 
Commendatory  Verses  on  Shakspeare  -  -  181 
Malone's  Attempt  to   ascertain  the  Order  of 

Shakspeare's  Plays  -  222 

Malone's  Essay  on  Ford's  Pamphlet,  fyc.      -    374 
Steevens's  Remarks  on  it     -        -        -        -    408 

VOL.  III. 

MaloneJs  historical  Account  of  the  English  Stage      1 

Additions 351 

Additions  by  Steevens  -  404 

Further  Historical  Account  by  Chalmers       -    417 
Addenda  by  the  same  -         -         -         -     5i3 

VOL.  IV. 

Tempest. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona, 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 


CONTENTS.  * 

VOL.  V. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 
Twelfth  Night. 

VOL.  VI. 
Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 
Measure  for  Measure. 

VOL.  VII. 

Love's  Labour's  Lost. 
Merchant  of  Venice. 

VOL.  VIII. 
as  you  like  it. 

All's  well  that  ends  well. 

VOL.  IX. 

Taming  of  the  Shrew. 
Winter's  Tale. 

VOL.  X. 

Macbeth. 

King  John. 

VOL.  XL 
King  Richard  II. 
King  Henry  IV.    Part  I. 

VOL.  XII. 
King  Henry  IV.    Part  II. 
King  Henry  V. 

VOL.  XIII. 
King  Henry  VI.     Part  I. 
King  Henry  VI.    Part  II. 


CONTENTS. 

VOL.  XIV. 
King  Henry  VI.    Part  III. 

Dissertation,  S$c. 
King  Richard  III. 

VOL.  XV. 
King  Henry  VIII. 
Troilus  and  Cressida. 

VOL.  XVI. 

coriolanus. 

Julius  C&sar. 

VOL.  XVII. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra. 
King  Lear. 

VOL.  XVIII. 

Hamlet. 

Cymbeline. 

VOL.  XIX. 
Timon  of  Athens. 
Othello. 

VOL.  XX. 
Romeo  and  Juliet. 
Comedy  of  Errors. 

VOL.  XXI. 

Titus  Andronicus. 
Pericles,  and  Dissertations. 
Addenda,  and  Glossarial  Index. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


I  HE  present  edition  has  been  carefully  revised  by 
the  late  Mr.  Reed's  coadjutor  in  the  fifth  edition, 
who  was  particularly  recommended  to  the  proprie- 
tors for  that  office  by  Mr.  Steevens :  how  he  has 
answered  such  a  recommendation  is  left  to  the 
public  to  judge  :  he  only  begs  permission  to  say, 
that  he  hopes  the  present  edition  will  not  be  found 
inferior  to  any  of  the  preceding. 

In  a  work  extending  to  twenty-one  volumes  some 
errors  will  unavoidably  occur ;  such  as  have  hap- 
pened in  former  editions  have  been  corrected  in 
this :  a  few  notes  have  been  added  in  their  proper 
places,  and  a  short  Appendix  in  the  twenty-first 
volume,  of  some  observations  which  occurred  to 
the  editor  in  the  course  of  reading  the  proof  sheet9. 

In  the  twentieth  volume,  Arthur  Broke's  Tra- 
gicall  Historye  ofRomeus  and  Juliet  has  been  care- 
fully revised  from  a  copy  of  the  edition  printed  in 
1562,  and  collated  by  Mr.  Joseph  Haslewood,  who 
also  furnished  from  the  British  Bibliographer  the 

vol.  i.  a 


ii  ADVERTISEMENT. 

prose  Address  to  the  reader,  which  is  not  found  in 
the  edition  printed  in  1587,  made  use  of  by  Mr. 
Malone. 

A  more  faithful  copy  of  the  portrait  of  Shak- 
speare  than  any  before  engraved  from  the  picture 
formerly  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Steevens  is  pre- 
fixed, and  also  an  engraving  cf  Mr.  Flaxman's 
Monument  in  Poplar  Chapel,  to  the  memory  of 
Mr.  Steevens,  on  which  is  sculptured  his  likeness 
in  profile  that  will  be  acknowledged  a  striking  re- 
semblance by  all  who  knew  him. 

A  brief  memorial  of  Mr.  Reed  is  justly  due  in 
this  work,  and  as  that  has  been  so  lately  done  by 
his  friend  Mr.  Nichols,  in  the  second  volume  of 
his  Literary  Anecdotes  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
the  following  is  with  his  permission  extracted  from 
that  Magazine  of  amusing  and  interesting  literary 

information. 

> 

"  Isaac  Reed,  an  eminent  collector  of  books 
and  able  commentator,  was  born  in  the  parish  of 
St.  Dunstan  in  the  West,  where  his  father  passed 
unambitiously  through  life,  in  the  useful  occupa- 
tion of  a  baker,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  wit- 
nessing the  son's  literary  attainments  with  that 
enthusiasm  which  frequently  prevails  in  a  strong 
uncultivated  mind. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  iii 

■ 
"  He  commenced  his  public  life  very  reputably, 

as  a  solicitor  and  conveyancer ;  but  for  several 
years  before  his  death  had  confined  the  practical 
part  of  his  business  to  the  last-mentioned  branch 
of  his  profession.  Placed  in  a  situation  which 
above  all  others  is  frequently  the  road  to  riches  and 
honour,  Mr.  Reed's  principal  ambition  was  to  ac- 
quire a  fundamental  knowledge  of  the  jurispru- 
dence of  his  country ;  and  thus  far  he  was  emi- 
nently successful.  But  the  law,  however  alluring 
its  prospects,  had  not  charms  sufficient  to  engage 
his  whole  attention ;  he  loved,  he  venerated,  that 
admirable  system,  which  from  the  days  of  Alfred 
and  Canute,  from  the  bold  usurping  Norman  to 
the  present  reign,  has  been  regularly  ameliorating; 
but  he  detested  the  chicanery  of  which  he  was  al- 
most daily  a  witness  in  many  of  its  professors.  If 
ever  there  was  a  mind  devoid  of  guile,  it  was 
Isaac  Reed's  ;  and  an  attempt  to  make  "  the  worse 
appear  the  better  cause,"  would  have  been  with 
him  a  breach  of  moral  obligation.  Hence  an  ex- 
tensive line  of  business  was  necessarily  precluded; 
but  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  numbering  among 
his  clients  many  highly  valued  friends  ;  and  other 
avenues  to  fame,  if  not  to  fortune,  were  open  to 
his  capacious  mind.  His  intimate  knowledge  of 
antient  English  literature  was  unbounded.  His 
own  publications,  though  not  very  numerous,  were 
all  valuable ;  and  he  was  more  satisfied  with  being 

a  2 


iv  ADVERTISEMENT. 

a  faithful  editor,  than  ambitious  of  being  an  ori- 
ginal composer. 

"  In  the  year  1768,  he  collected  into  one  vo- 
lume, 12mo.  "The  Poetical  Works  of  the  Hon. 
Lady  M[ar]y  W[ortele]y  M[ontagu]e."  His  other 
publications  were,  Middleton's  "  Witch,  a  Tragi- 
Coomodie,"  a  few  copies  only  for  his  friends,  1 778 ; 
the  sixth  volume  of  Dr.  Young's  Works,  1778, 
12mo.  "  Biographia  Dramatica,"  2  volumes,  8vo. 
1782,  founded  upon  "  Baker's  Companion  to  the 
Playhouse  :"  the  biographical  department  of  this 
work  is  the  result  of  diligent  enquiry,  and  his 
strictures  on  the  productions  of  the  English  drama 
display  sound  judgment  and  correct  taste ;  an  im- 
proved edition  of  Dodsley's  old  Plays,  with  Notes, 
12  vols.  8vo.  1780  ;  Dodsley's  Collection  of  Poems, 
with  Biographical  Notes,  6  vols.  8vo.  1782;  "  The 
Repository ;  a  select  Collection  of  Fugitive  Pieces 
of  Wit  and  Humour,  in  Prose  and  Verse,  by  the 
most  eminent  Writers,"  4  vols.  8vo.  1777 — 1783; 
Pearch's  Collection  of  Poems,  with  Biographical 
Notes,  4  vols.  8vo.  1783,  (which  some  have  ascribed 
to  the  late  George  Keate,  esq.) ;  "  A  Complete 
Collection  of  the  Cambridge  Prize  Poems,  from 
their  first  Institution,  in  1750,  to  the  present 
Time;"  8vo.  1773;  an  edition  of  Johnson  and 
Steevens's  Shakspeare,  10  vol.  8vo.  1785,  which 
he  undertook  at  the  request  of  Dr.  Farmer  and 


ADVERTISEMENT.  v 

Mr.  Steevens,the  latter  of  whom  resigning,  for  this 
time,  the  office  of  Editor;  some  short  Lives  of 
those  English  Poets  who  were  added  to  Dr.  John- 
son's Collection,  in  1790;  the  Fifth  Edition  of 
Shakspeare,  in  21  vols.  8vo.  1803,  with  his  name 
prefixed ;  an  effort  which  he  with  some  difficulty 
was  persuaded  to  make.  So  extremely  averse  in- 
deed was  he  to  appearing  before  the  publick,  that, 
when  he  was  asked,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  add 
only  his  initials  at  the  end  of  the  prefatory  adver- 
tisement of  Dr.  Young,  his  answer  was  nearly  in 
these  words:  "  I  solemnly  declare,  that  I  have 
such  a  thorough  dread  of  putting  my  name  to  any 
publication  whatever,  that,  if  I  were  placed  in  the 
alternative  either  of  so  doing  or  of  standing  in  the 
pillory,  I  believe  I  should  prefer  the  latter."  He 
was  a  valuable  contributor  to  the  Westminster 
Magazine,  from  1773-4  to  about  the  year  1780. 
The  biographical  articles  in  that  Miscellany  are 
from  his  pen.  He  became  also  very  early  one  of 
the  proprietors  of  the  European  Magazine,  and 
was  a  constant  contributor  to  it  for  many  years, 
particularly  in  the  biographical  and  critical  de- 
partments. He  was  also  an  occasional  volunteer 
in  the  pages  of  Sylvanus  Urban.  So  ample  indeed 
was  his  collection  of  literary  curiosities,  so  ready 
was  he  in  turning  to  them,  and  so  thoroughly  able 
to  communicate  information,  that  no  man  of  cha- 
racter ever  applied  to  him  in  vain.     Even  the  la- 


vi  ADVERTISEMENT. 

bours  of  Dr.  Johnson  were  benefited  by  his  ac- 
curacy; and  for  the  last  thirty  years,  there  has 
scarcely  appeared  any  literary  work  in  this  coun- 
try, of  the  least  consequence,  that  required  minute 
and  extensive  research,  which  had  not  the  advan- 
tage of  his  liberal  assistance,  as  the  grateful  pre- 
faces of  a  variety  of  writers  have  abundantly  tes- 
tified. Among  the  earliest  of  these  was  the  edi- 
tion of  Dr.  King's  Works,  1776,  and  the  Supple- 
ment to  Swift,  in  the  same  year.  In  both  these 
works  Mr.  Nichols  was  most  materially  indebted 
to  the  judicious  remarks  of  Mr.  Reed,  whose 
friendly  assistance  also  in  many  instances  contri- 
buted to  render  his  "  Anecdotes  of  Mr.  Bowyer," 
in  1782,  completer  than  they  otherwise  could  pos- 
sibly have  been.  He  contributed  also  many  useful 
notes  to  the  later  editions  of  Dr.  Johnson's  Lives 
of  the  Poets.  To  enumerate  the  thanks  of  the 
authors  whom  he  had  assisted  by  his  advice  would 
be  endless. 

"  With  the  late  Dr.  Farmer,  the  worthy  master 
of  Emanuel  College,  Cambridge,  he  was  long  and 
intimately  acquainted,  and  regularly  for  many 
years  spent  an  autumnal  month  with  him  at  that 
pleasant  seat  of  learning.  At  that  period  the  thea- 
tricals of  Stirbitch  Fair  had  powerful  patronage  in 
the  Combination-room  of  Emanuel,  where  the  rou- 
tine of  performance  was  regularly  settled,   and 


ADVERTISEMENT.  vii 

where  the  charms  of  the  bottle  were  early  deserted 
for  the  pleasures  of  the  sock  and  buskin.  In  the 
boxes  of  this  little  theatre  Dr.  Farmer  was  the 
Arbiter  Eleganliarum,  and  presided  with  as  much 
dignity  and  unaffected  ease  as  within  the  walls  of 
his  own  College.  He  was  regularly  surrounded 
by  a  large  party  of  congenial  friends  and  able  cri- 
ticks;  among  whom  Mr.  Reed  and  Mr.  Steevens 
were  constantly  to  be  found.  The  last-mentioned 
gentleman,  it  may  not  here  improperly  be  noticed, 
had  so  inviolable  an  attachment  to  Mr.  Reed,  that 
notwithstanding  a  capriciousness  of  temper  which 
often  led  him  to  differ  from  his  dearest  friends, 
and  occasionally  to  lampoon  them,  there  were 
three  persons  with  whom  through  life  he  scarcely 
seemed  to  have  a  shade  of  difference  of  opinion ; 
but  those  three  were  gentlemen  with  whom  it  was 
not  possible  for  the  most  captious  person  to  have 
differed — Dr.  Farmer,  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  and  Isaac 
Reed. 

"  To  follow  Mr.  Reed  into  the  more  retired 
scenes  of  private  and  domestic  life :  he  was  an 
early  riser ;  and,  whenever  the  avocations  of  busi- 
ness permitted  leisure,  applied,  in  general,  several 
hours  in  the  morning,  either  in  study  or  in  the 
arrangement  of  his  numerous  scarce  Tracts.  His 
collection  of  books,  which  were  chiefly  English, 
was  perhaps  one  of  the  most  extensive  in  that  kind 


viii  ADVERTISEMENT. 

that  any  private  individual  ever  possessed ;  and  he 
had  a  short  time  before  his  death  made  arrange- 
ments for  disposing  of  a  great  part  of  it.  The 
whole  was  afterwards  sold  by  auction. 

"  He  was  naturally  companionable  j  and  fre- 
quently enjoyed  the  conversation  of  the  table  at 
the  houses  of  a  select  circle  of  friends,  to  whom 
his  great  knowledge  of  men  and  books,  and  his 
firm  fcyt  modest  mode  of  communicating  that 
knowledge,  always  rendered  him  highly  accept- 
able. 

"  Exercise  was  to  him  a  great  source  both  of 
health  and  pleasure.  Frequently  has  the  compiler 
of  this  article  enjoyed  a  twelve  miles  walk  to  par- 
take with  him  in  the  hospitalities  of  Mr.  Gough  at 
Enfield,  and  the  luxury  of  examining  with  perfect 
ease  the  rarer  parts  of  an  uncommonly  rich  topo- 
graphical library.  But  the  most  intimate  of  his 
friends  was  the  friend  of  human  kind  at  large,  the 
mild,  benevolent  Daniel  Braithwaite,  esq.  late 
comptroller  of  the  Foreign  Post-office,  who  has 
frequently  beguiled  him  into  an  agreeable  saunter 
of  near  twenty  miles,  to  his  delightful  retreat  in 
the  pleasant  village  of  Amweli,  where  he  was  al- 
ways as  happy,  and  as  much  at  home  as  Dr.  John- 
son was  at  Mr.  Thrale's  at  Streatham. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  ix 

"  With  Mr.  Bindley,  senior  Commissioner  of 
the  Stamp-office,  whose  skill  and  taste  in  collect- 
ing rare  and  valuable  articles  in  literature  were 
so  congenial  to  his  own,  Mr.  Reed  had  many  in- 
terchanges of  reciprocal  obligation.  But  his  more 
immediate  associates  were,  James  Sayer,  esq.  of 
Great  Ormond-street ;  Mr.  Romney  and  Mr.  Hay- 
ley,  the  eminent  painter  and  poet ;  William  Long, 
esq.  the  celebrated  surgeon ;  Edmund  Malone,* 
esq.  the  great  rival  commentator  on  Shak  peare ; 
J.  P.  Kemble,  esq.  not  only  an  excellent  critick 
and  collector  of  dramatic  curiosities,  but  himself, 
(perhaps  with  the  exception  of  his  sister  only,) 
the  best  living  exemplar  of  Shakspeare's  text; 
the  Rev.  H.  J.  Todd,  the  illustrator  of  Milton 
and  Spenser,  to  whom  he  left  a  legacy  for  his 
trouble  in  superintending  the  sale  of  his  library ; 
Francis  Newbery,  esq.  of  Heathfield,  co.  Sussex ; 
Richard  Sharp,  esq.  M.  P.  for  Castle  Rising ;  and 
George  Nicol,  esq.  the  judicious  purveyor  of  li- 
terary curiosities  for  the  King.  Some  of  these 
gentlemen  were  members  of  a  select  dining-club, 
of  which  he  had  from  its  origin  been  the  presi- 
dent. 

*  Mr.  Malone  died  May  25,  1812.  He  was  brother  to  Lord 
Sunderlin ;  and  had  he  survived  his  Lordship  would  have  suc- 
ceeded to  the  title,  the  remainder  being  in  him.  Like  Mr. 
Steevens,  he  devoted  his  life  and  his  fortune  to  the  task  of 
making  the  great  Bard  better  known  by  his  countrymen. 


x  ADVERTISEMENT. 

"  He  died  Jan.  .5,  1807,  at  his  chambers  in 
Staple-inn,  of  which  honourable  society  he  had 
long  been  one  of  the  antientsj  and  his  remains 
were  interred  at  Am  well,  agreeably  to  his  own 
request." 

Library  of  the 

Royal  Institution, 

Dec.  9,  1812. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

PREFIXED  TO  EDITION  1803. 


1  HE  merits  of  our  great  dramatick  Bard,  the 
pride  and  glory  of  his  country,  have  been  so  amply 
displayed  by  persons  of  various  and  first-rate  talents, 
that  it  would  appear  like  presumption  in  any  one, 
and  especially  in  him  whose  name  is  subscribed  to 
this  Advertisement,  to  imagine  himself  capable  of 
adding  any  thing  on  so  exhausted  a  subject.  After 
the  labours  of  men  of  such  high  estimation  asRowe, 
Pope,  Warburton,  Johnson,  Farmer,  and  Steevens, 
with  others  of  inferior  name,  the  rank  of  Shak- 
speare  in  the  poetical  world  is  not  a  point  at  this 
time  subject  to  controversy.  His  pre-eminence  is 
admitted  ;  his  superiority  confessed.  Long  ago  it 
might  be  said  of  him,  as  it  has  been,  in  the  ener- 
getick  lines  of  Johnson,  of  one  almost  his  equal, — 

"  At  length,  our  mighty  bard's  victorious  lays 
"  Fill  the  loud  voice  of  universal  praise ; 
**  And  baffled  spite,  with  hopeless  anguish  dumb, 
"  Yields  to  renown  the  centuries  to  come." 

a  renown,  established  on  so  solid  a  foundation,  as 
to  bid  defiance  to  the  caprices  of  fashion,  and  to 
the  canker  of  time. 


xiv  ADVERTISEMENT. 

admirable  plan  of  illustrating  Shakspeare  by  the 
study  of  writers  of  his  own  time.  By  following 
this  track,  most  of  the  difficulties  of  the  author 
have  been  overcome,  his  meaning  (in  many  in- 
stances apparently  lost)  has  been  recovered,  and 
much  wild  unfounded  conjecture  has  been  happily 
got  rid  of.  By  perseverance  in  this  plan,  he  ef- 
fected more  to  the  elucidation  of  his  author  than 
any  if  not  all  his  predecessors,  and  justly  entitled 
himself  to  the  distinction  of  being  confessed  the 
best  editor  of  Shakspeare. 

The  edition  which  now  solicits  the  notice  of  the 
publick  is  faithfully  printed  from  the  copy  given  by 
Mr.  Steevens  to  the  proprietors  of  the  preceding 
edition,  in  his  life-time ;  with  such  additions  as,  it 
is  presumed,  he  would  have  received,  had  he  lived 
to  determine  on  them  himself.  The  whole  was 
entrusted  to  the  care  of  the  present  Editor,  who 
has,  with  the  aid  of  an  able  and  vigilant  assistant, 
and  a  careful  printer,  endeavoured  to  fulfil  the  trust 
reposed  in  him,  as  well  as  continued  ill  health  and 
depressed  spirits  would  permit. 

"  Learning,  as  vast  as  mental  power  could  seize, 
**  In  sport  displaying  and  with  grateful  ease, 
"  Lightly  the  stage  of  chequer'd  life  he  trod, 
"  Careless  of  chance,  confiding  in  his  God  ! 

"  This  tomb  may  perish,  but  not  so  his  name 
"  Who  shed  new  lustre  upon  Shakspeare's  fame!" 


ADVERTISEMENT.  xv 

By  a  memorandum  in  the  hand-writing  of  Mr. 
Steevens  it  appeared  to  be  his  intention  to  adopt 
and  introduce  into  the  prolegomena  of  the  present 
edition  some  parts  of  two  late  works  of  Mr.  George 
Chalmers.  An  application  was  therefore  made  to 
that  gentleman  for  his  consent,  which  was  imme- 
diately granted  ;  and  to  render  the  favour  more 
acceptable,  permission  was  given  to  divest  the  ex- 
tracts of  the  offensive  asperities  of  controversy. 

The  portrait  of  Shakspeare  prefixed  to  the  pre- 
sent edition,  is  a  copy  of  the  picture  formerly  be- 
longing to  Mr.  Felton,  now  to  Alderman  Boydell, 
and  at  present  at  the  Shakspeare  Gallery,  in  Pall 
Mall.  After  what  has  been  written  on  the  subject 
it  will  be  only  necessary  to  add,  that  Mr.  Steevens 
persevered  in  his  opinion  that  this,  of  all  the  por- 
traits, had  the  fairest  chance  of  being  a  genuine 
likeness  of  the  author.  Of  the  canvas  Chandois 
picture  he  remained  convinced  that  it  possessed 
no  claims  to  authenticity. 

Some  apology  is  due  to  those  gentlemen  who, 
during  the  course  of  the  publication,  have  oblig- 
ingly offered  the  present  Editor  their  assistance, 
which  he  should  thankfully  have  received,  had  he 
considered  himself  at  liberty  to  accept  their  favours. 
He  was  fearful  of  loading  the  pago,  which  Mr. 
Steevens  in  some  instances  thought  too  much 
crouded  already,  and  therefore  confined  himself 
to  the  copy  left  to  his  care  by  his  deceased  friend. 


xvi  ADVERTISEMENT. 

But  it  is  time  to  conclude. — He  will  therefore 
detain  the  reader  no  longer  than  just  to  offer  a  few 
words  in  extenuation  of  any  errors  or  omissions 
that  may  be  discovered  in  his  part  of  the  work ;  a 
work  which,  notwithstanding  the  utmost  exertion 
of  diligence,  has  never  been  produced  without 
some  imperfection.  Circumstanced  as  he  has 
been,  he  is  sensible  how  inadequate  his  powers 
were  to  the  task  imposed  on  him,  and  hopes  for 
the  indulgence  of  the  reader.  He  feels  that  "the 
inaudible  and  noiseless  foot  of  time"  has  insen- 
sibly brought  on  that  period  of  life  and  those  at- 
tendant infirmities  which  weaken  the  attachment 
to  early  pursuits,  and  diminish  their  importance: 
"  Superfluous  lags  the  veteran  on  the  stage." 

To  the  admonition  he  is  content  to  pay  obedience, 
and  satisfied  that  the  hour  is  arrived  when  "  well- 
timed  retreat"  is  the  measure  which  prudence  dic- 
tates, and  reason  will  approve,  he  here  bids  adieu 
to  Shakspeare,  and  his  Commentators ;  acknow- 
ledging the  candour  with  which  very  imperfect 
efforts  have  been  received,  and  wishing  for  his  suc- 
cessors the  same  gratification  he  has  experienced 
in  his  humble  endeavours  to  illustrate  the  greatest 
poet  the  world  ever  knew. 

ISAAC  REED. 

Staple  Inn, 
May  2,  1803. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


"  WHEN  I  said  I  would  die  a  bachelor,  (cries 
Benedick,)  I  did  not  think  I  should  live  till  I  were 
married.*'  The  present  Editor  of  Shakspeare  may 
urge  a  kindred  apology  in  defence  of  an  opinion 
hazarded  in  his  Prefatory  Advertisement;  for  when 
he  declared  his  disbelief  in  the  existence  of  a  ge- 
nuine likeness  of  our  great  Dramatick  Writer,  he 
most  certainly  did  not  suppose  any  Portrait  of  that 
description  could  have  occurred,  and  much  less 
that  he  himself  should  have  been  instrumental  in 
producing  it.1  He  is  happy,  however,  to  find  he 
was  mistaken  in  both  his  suppositions  j  and  conse- 
quently has  done  his  utmost  to  promote  the  ap- 
pearance of  an  accurate  and  finished  Engraving, 
from  a  Picture  which  had  been  unfaithfully  as  well 
as  poorly  imitated  by  Droeshout  and  Marshall? 

1  See  Mr.  Richardson's  Proposals,  p.  4. 

*  "  Martin  Droeshout.  One  of  the  indifferent  engravers  of 
the  last  century.  He  resided  in  England,  and  was  employed  by 
the  booksellers.  His  portraits,  which  are  the  best  part  of  his 
works,  have  nothing  but  their  scarcity  to  recommend  them.  He 
engraved  the  head  of  Shalcspeare,  John  Fox,  the  martyrologist, 
John  Hotvson,  Bishop  of  Durham,"  Ac. 

Strutt's  Dictionary  of  Engrawrs,  Vol.  I.  p.  26*4. 

"  William  Marshall.  He  was  one  of  those  laborious  artists 
whose  engravings  were  chiefly  confined  to  the  ornamenting  of 
books.  And  indeed  his  patience  and  assiduity  is  all  we  can  ad- 
mire when  we  turn  over  his  prints,  which  are  prodigiously  nu- 
merous. He  worked  with  the  graver  only,  but  in  a  dry  tasteless 
style;  and  from  the  similarity  which  appears  in  the  design  of  all 
his  portraits,  it  is  supposed  that  he  worked  from  his  own  drawings 
VOL.  I.  B 


2  ADVERTISEMENT. 

Of  the  character  repeatedly  and  deliberately  be- 
stowed by  the  same  Editor  on  the  first  of  these 
old  engravers,  not  a  single  word  will  be  retracted ; 
for,  if  the  judgment  of  experienced  artists  be  of 
any  value,  the  plate  by  Droeshout  now  under  con- 
sideration has  (in  one  instance  at  least)  established 
his  claim  to  the  title  of  "  a  most  abominable  imi- 
tator of  humanity." 

Mr.  Fuseli  has  pronounced,  that  the  Portrait 
described  in  the  Proposals  of  Mr.  Richardson, 
was  the  work  of  a  Flemish  hand.  It  may  also  be 
observed,  that  the  verses  in  praise  of  Droeshout* s 
performance,  were  probably  written  as  soon  as 
they  were  bespoke,  and  before  their  author  had 
found  opportunity  or  inclination  to  compare  the 
plate  with  its  original.  He  might  previously  have 
known  that  the  picture  conveyed  a  just  resem- 
blance of  Shakspeare;  took  it  for  granted  that  the 
copy  would  be  exact;  and,  therefore,  rashly  as- 
signed to  the  engraver  a  panegyrick  which  the 
painter  had  more  immediately  deserved.  It  is 
lucky  indeed  for  those  to  whom  metrical  recom- 
mendations are  necessary,  that  custom  does  not 
require  they  should  be  delivered  upon  oath. 

It  is  likewise  probable  that  Ben  Jonson  had  no 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  graphick  art,  and 
might  not  have  been  over-solicitous  about  the  style 
in  which  Shakspeare9 s  lineaments  were  transmitted 
to  posterity. 

G.  S. 

after  the  life,  though  he  did  not  add  the  words  ad  vivum,  as  was 
common  upon  such  occasions.  But  if  we  grant  this  to  be  the 
case,  the  artist  will  acquire  very  little  additional  honour  upon  that 
account ;  for  there  is  full  as  great  a  want  of  taste  manifest  in  the 
design,  as  in  the  execution  of  his  works  on  copper."  &c.  Ibid. 
Vol.  II.  p.  125. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


N.  B.  The  character  of  Shakspeare  as  a  poet ; 
the  condition  of  the  ancient  copies  of  his  plays;  the 
merits  of  his  respective  editors,  &c.  &c.  have  been 
so  minutely  investigated  on  former  occasions,  that 
any  fresh  advertisement  of  similar  tendency  might 
be  considered  as  a  tax  on  the  reader's  patience. 

It  may  be  proper  indeed  to  observe,  that  the 
errors  we  have  discovered  in  our  last  edition  are 
here  corrected ;  and  that  some  explanations,  &c. 
which  seemed  to  be  wanting,  have  likewise  been 
supplied. 

To  these  improvements  it  is  now  become  our 
duty  to  add  the  genuine  Portrait  of  our  author. 
For  a  particular  account  of  the  discovery  of  it,  we 
must  again  refer  to  the  Proposals  of  Mr.  Richard- 
son,3 at  whose  expence  two  engravings  from  it 
have  been  already  made. 

"We  are  happy  to  subjoin,  that  Messieurs  Boydell, 
who  have  resolved  to  decorate  their  magnificent 
edition  of  Shakspeare  with  a  copy  from  the  same 
original  picture  lately  purchased  by  them  from 
Mr.  Felton,  have  not  only  favoured  us  with  the  use 
of  it,  but  most  obligingly  took  care,  by  their  own 
immediate  superintendance,  that  as  much  justice 
should  be  done  to  our  engraving,  as  to  their  own. 

3  See  p.  4. 


13  2 


PREFACE 


TO 

MR.  RICHARDSON'S  PROPOSALS,  §c. 
1794. 


BEFORE  the  patronage  of  the  publick  is  solicit- 
ed in  favour  of  a  new  engraving  from  the  only 
genuine  'portrait  of  Shakspeare,  it  is  proper  that 
every  circumstance  relative  to  the  discovery  of  it 
should  be  faithfully  and  circumstantially  related. 

On  Friday,  August  9,  Mr.  Richardson,  print- 
seller,  of  Castle  Street,  Leicester  Square,  assured 
Mr.  Steevens  that,  in  the  course  of  business  having 
recently  waited  on  Mr.  Felton,  of  Curzon  Street, 
May  Fair,  this  gentleman  showed  him  an  ancient 
head  resembling  the  portrait  of  Shakspeare  as  en- 
graved by  Martin  Droeshout  in  1 623. 

Having  frequently  been  misled  by  similar  re- 
ports founded  on  inaccuracy  of  observation  or  un- 
certainty of  recollection,  Mr.  Steevens  was  desir- 
ous to  see  the  Portrait  itself,  that  the  authenticity 
of  it  might  be  ascertained  by  a  deliberate  compari- 
son with  Droeshout's  performance.  Mr.  Felton,  in 
the  most  obliging  and  liberal  manner,  permitted 
Mr.  Richardson  to  bring  the  head,  frame  and  all, 
away  with  him ;  and  several  unquestionable  judges 
have  concurred  in  pronouncing  that  the  plate  of 
Droeshout  conveys  not  only  a  general  likeness  of 
its  original,  but  an  exact  and  particular  one  as  far 


PREFACE,  &c.  5 

as  this  artist  had  ability  to  execute  his  undertaking. 
Droeshout  could  follow  the  outlines  of  a  face  with 
tolerable  accuracy,4  but  usually  left  them  as  hard 
as  if  hewn  out  of  a  rock.  Thus,  in  the  present  in- 
stance, he  has  servilely  transferred  the  features  of 
Shakspeare  from  the  painting  to  the  copper,  omit- 
ting every  trait  of  the  mild  and  benevolent  charac- 
ter which  his  portrait  so  decidedly  affords. — There 
are,  indeed,  just  such  marks  of  a  placid  and  ami- 
able disposition  in  this  resemblance  of  our  poet,  as 
his  admirers  would  have  wished  to  find. 

This  Portrait  is  not  painted  on  canvas,  like  the 
Chandos  Head,5  but  on  wood.     Little  more  of  it 


4  Of  some  volunteer  infidelities,  however,  Droeshout  may  be 
convicted.  It  is  evident  from  the  picture  that  Shakspeare  was 
partly  bald,  and  consequently  that  his  forehead  appeared  unusu- 
ally high.  To  remedy,  therefore,  what  seemed  a  defect  to  the 
engraver,  he  has  amplified  the  brow  on  the  right  side.  For  the 
sake  of  a  more  picturesque  effect,  he  has  also  incurvated  the  line 
in  the  fore  part  of  the  run1',  though  in  the  original  it  is  mathema- 
tically straight.     See  note  9,  p.  6. 

It  may  be  observed,  however,  to  those  who  examine  trifles 
with  rigour,  that  our  early-engraved  portraits  were  produced  in 
the  age  when  few  had  skill  or  opportunity  to  ascertain  their 
faithfulness  or  infidelity.  The  confident  artist  therefore  assumed 
the  liberty  of  altering  where  he  thought  he  could  improve.  The 
rapid  workman  was  in  too  much  haste  to  give  his  outline  with 
correctness;  and  the  mere  drudgein  his  profession  contented  him- 
self by  placing  a  caput  mortuum  of  his  original  before  the  pub- 
lick.  In  short,  the  inducements  to  be  licentious  or  inaccurate, 
were  numerous  ;  and  the  rewards  of  exactness  were  seldom  at- 
tainable, most  of  our  ancient  heads  of  authors  being  done,  at 
stated  prices,  for  booksellers,  who  were  careless  about  the  veri- 
similitude of  engravings  which  fashion  not  unfrequently  obliged 
them  to  insert  in  the  title-pages  of  works  that  deserved  no  such 
expensive  decorations. 

*  A  living  artist,  who  was  apprentice  to  Roubiliac,  declares 
that  when  that  elegant  statuary  undertook  to  execute  the  figure 
of  Shakspeare  for  Mr.  Garrick,  the  Chandos  picture  was  bor- 
rowed ;  but  that  it  was,  even  then,  regarded  as  a  performance 


6  PREFACE  TO 

than  the  entire  countenance  and  part  of  the  ruff  is 
left  ;  for  the  pannel  having  been  split  off  on  one 
side,  the  rest  was  curtailed  and  adapted  to  a  small 
frame.0  On  the  back  of  it  is  the  following  inscrip- 
tion, written  in  a  very  old  hand :  "  Guil,  Shak- 
speare,7  1597.8  R.  N."  Whether  these  initials  be- 
long to  the  painter,  or  a  former  owner  of  the  pic- 
ture, is  uncertain.  It  is  clear,  however,  that  this  is 
the  identical  head  from  which  not  only  the  engrav- 
ing by  Droeshout  in  1623,  but  that  of  Marshall9 
in  1640  was  made;  arid  though  the  hazards  our 


of  suspicious  aspect ;  though  for  want  of  a  more  authentick  arche- 
type, some  few  hints  were  received,  or  pretended  to  be  received, 
from  it. 

Roubiliac,  towards  the  close  of  his  life,  amused  himself  by 
painting  in  oil,  though  with  little  success.  Mr.  Felton  has  his 
poor  copy  of  the  Chandos  picture  in  which  our  author  exhibits 
the  complexion  of  a  Jew,  or  rather  that  of  a  chimney-sweeper 
in  the  jaundice. 

It  is  singular  that  neither  Garrick,  or  his  friends,  should  have 
desired  Roubiliac  at  least  to  look  at  the  two  earliest  prints  of 
Shakspeare ;  and  yet  even  Scheemaker  is  known  to  have  had  no 
other  model  for  our  author's  head,  than  the  mezzotinto  by  Zoust, 

6  A  broker  now  in  the  Minories  declares,  that  it  is  his  usual 
practice  to  cut  down  such  portraits,  as  are  painted  on  wood,  to 
the  size  of  such  spare  frames  as  he  happens  to  have  in  his  posses- 
sion. 

7  It  is  observable,  that  this  hand-writing  is  of  the  age  of  Eli- 
zabeth, and  that  the  name  of  Shakspeare  is  set  down  as  he  him- 
self has  spelt  it. 

8  The  age  of  the  person  represented  agrees  with  the  date  on 
the  back  of  the  picture.  In  1597  our  author  was  in  his  33d 
year,  and  in  the  meridian  of  his  reputation,  a  period  at  which  his 
resemblance  was  most  likely  to  have  been  secured. 

9  It  has  hitherto  been  supposed  that  Marshall's  production  was 
borrowed  from  that  of  his  predecessor.  But  it  is  now  manifest 
that  he  has  given  the  very  singular  ruff  of  Shakspeare  as  it  stands 
in  the  original  picture,  and  not  as  it  appears  in  the  plate  from  it 
by  Martin  Droeshout. 


MR.  RICHARDSON'S  PROPOSALS.     7 

author's  likeness  was  exposed  to,  may  have  been 
numerous,  it  is  still  in  good  preservation. 

But,  as  further  particulars  may  be  wished  for, 
it  should  be  subjoined,  that  in  the  Catalogue  of 
"  The  fourth  Exhibition  and  Sale  by  private  Con- 
tract at  the  European  Museum,  King-Street,  St. 
James's  Square,  1792,"  this  picture  was  announced 
to  the  publick  in  the  following  words : 

"  No.  359.  A  curious  portrait  of  Shakspeare, 
painted  in  1597." 

On  the  3lst  of  May,  1792,  Mr.  Felton  bought 
it  for  five  guineas ;  and  afterwards  urging  some 
inquiry  concerning  the  place  it  came  from,  Mr. 
Wilson,  the  conductor  of  the  Museum  already 
mentioned,  wrote  to  him  as  follows : 


"  To  Mr.  S.  Felton,  Drayton,  Shropshire. 

"  SIE, 

" The  Head  of  Shakespeare  was 

purchased  out  of  an  old  house  known  by  the  sign 
of  the  Boar  in  Eastcheap,  London,  where  Shake- 
speare and  his  friends  used  to  resort, — and  report 
says,  was  painted  by  a  Player  of  that  time,1  but 
whose  name  I  have  not  been  able  to  learn. 

"  I  am,  Sir,  with  great  regard, 

"  Your  most  obed*.  servant, 
"Sept.  li,  1792."  «  J.  Wilson." 


1  The  player  alluded  to  was  Richard  Burbage. 

A  Gentleman  who,  for  several  years  past,  has  collected  as 
many  pictures  of  Shakspeare  as  he  could  hear  of,  (in  the  hope 
that  he  might  at  last  procure  a  genuine  one,)  declares  that  the 


8  PREFACE  TO 

August  11,1 794,  Mr.  Wilson  assured  Mr.  Stee- 
vens,  that  this  portrait  was  found  between  four  and 
five  years  ago  at  a  broker's  shop  in  the  Minories, 
by  a  man  of  fashion,  whose  name  must  be  conceal- 
ed :  that  it  afterwards  came  (attended  by  the  East- 
cheap  story,  &c.)  with  a  part  of  that  gentleman's 
collection  of  paintings,  to  be  sold  at  the  European 
Museum,  and  was  exhibited  there  for  about  three 
months,  during  which  time  it  was  seen  by  Lord 
Leicester  and  Lord  Orford,  who  both  allowed  it 
to  be  a  genuine  picture  of  Shakspeare. — It  is  na- 
tural to  suppose  that  the  mutilated  state  of  it  pre- 
vented either  of  their  Lordships  from  becoming 
its  purchaser. 

How  far  the  report  on  which  Mr.  Wilson's  nar- 
ratives (respecting  the  place  where  this  picture 
was  met  with,  &c.)  were  built,  can  be  verified  by 
evidence  at  present  within  reach,  is  quite  imma- 
terial, as  our  great  dramatick  author's  portrait  dis- 
plays indubitable  marks  of  its  own  authenticity. 
It  is  apparently  not  the  work  of  an  amateur,  but 
of  an  artist  by  profession ;  and  therefore  could 
hardly  have  been  the  production  of  Burbage,  the 
principal  actor  of  his  time,  who  (though  he  cer- 
tainly handled  the  pencil)  must  have  had  insuffi- 
cient leisure  to  perfect  himself  in  oil-painting, 
which  was  then  so  little  understood  and  practised 
by  the  natives  of  this  kingdom.2 

Eastcheap  legend  has  accompanied  the  majority  of  them,  from 
whatever  quarter  they  were  transmitted. 

It  is  therefore  high  time  that  picture-dealers  should  avail  them- 
selves of  another  story,  this  being  completely  worn  out,  and  no 
longer  fit  for  service. 

*  Much  confidence,  perhaps,  ought  not  to  be  placed  in  this 
remark,  as  a  succession  of  limners  now  unknown  might  have 
pursued  their  art  in  England  from  the  time  of  Hans  Holbein  to 
that  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 


MR.  RICHARDSON'S  PROPOSALS.      9 

Yet,  by  those  who  allow  to  possibilities  the  influ- 
ence of  facts,  it  may  be  said  that  this  picture  was 
probably  the  ornament  of  a  club-room  in  Eastcheap, 
round  which  other  resemblances  of  contemporary 
poets  and  players  might  have  been  arranged : — that 
the  Boar's  Head,  the  scene  of  Falstaff's  jollity, 
might  also  have  been  the  favourite  tavern  of  Shak- 
speare  : — that,  when  our  author  returned  over 
London  Bridge  from  the  Globe  theatre,  this  was  a 
convenient  house  of  entertainment;  and  that  for 
many  years  afterwards  (as  the  tradition  of  the 
neighbourhood  reports)  it  was  understood  to  have 
been  a  place  where  the  wits  and  wags  of  a  former 
age  were  assembled,  and  their  portraits  reposited. 
To  such  suppositions  it  may  be  replied,  that  Mr. 
Sloman,  who  quitted  this  celebrated  publick  house 
in  1767,  (when  all  its  furniture,  which  had  devolved 
to  him  from  his  txvo  immediate  predecessors,  was  sold 
off,)  declared  his  utter  ignorance  of  any  picture  on 
the  premises,  except  a  coarse  daubing  of  the  Gads- 
hill  robbery.3    From  hence  the  following  proba- 

1  Philip  Jones  of  Barnard's  Inn,  the  auctioneer  who  sold  off 
Mr.  S Ionian's  effects,  has  been  sought  for ;  but  he  died  a  few- 
years  ago.  Otherwise,  as  the  knights  of  the  hammer  are  said  to 
preserve  the  catalogue  of  every  auction,  it  might  have  been 
known  whether  pictures  constituted  any  part  of  the  Boar's  Head 
furniture ;  for  Mr.  Sloman  himself  could  not  affirm  that  there 
were  no  small  or  obscure  paintings  above  stairs  in  apartments 
which  he  had  seldom  or  ever  occasion  to  visit. 

Mrs.  Brinn,  the  widow  of  Mr.  Sloman's  predecessor,  after  her 
husband's  decease  quitted  Eastcheap,  took  up  the  trade  of  a  wire- 
worker,  and  lived  in  Crooked  Lane.  She  died  about  ten  years 
ago.  One,  who  had  been  her  apprentice  (no  youth,)  declares 
she  was  a  very  particular  woman,  was  circumstantial  in  her  nar- 
ratives, and  so  often  repeated  them,  that  he  could  not  possibly 
forget  any  article  she  hau  communicated  relative  to  the  plate,  fur- 
niture, &c.  of  the  Boar's  Head : — that  she  often  spoke  of  the 
painting  that  represented  the  robbery  at  Gadshill,  but  never  so 
much  as  hinted  at  any  other  pictures  in  the  house ;  and  had  there 


10  PREFACE  TO 

bilities  may  be  suggested : — first,  that  if  Shak- 
speare's  portrait  was  ever  at  the  Boar's  Head,  it 
had  been  alienated  before  the  fire  of  London  in 
1666,  when  the  original  house  was  burnt; — and, 
secondly,  that  the  path  through  which  the  same 
picture  has  travelled  since,  is  as  little  to  be  deter- 
mined as  the  course  of  a  subterraneous  stream. 

It  may  also  be  remarked,  that  if  such  a  Portrait 
had  existed  in  Eastcheap  during  the  life  of  the  in- 
dustrious Vertue,4  he  would  most  certainly  have 
procured  it,  instead  of  having  submitted  to  take 
his  first  engraving  of  our  author  from  a  juvenile 
likeness  of  James  I.  and  his  last  from  Mr.  Keek's 
unauthenticated  purchase  out  of  the  dressing-room 
of  a  modern  actress. 

It  is  obvious,  therefore,  from  the  joint  deposi- 
tions of  Mr.  Wilson  and  Mr.  Sloman,  that  an  in- 
ference disadvantageous  to  the  authenticity  of  the 
Boar's  Head  story  must  be  drawn ;  for  if  the 
portrait  in  question  arrived  after  a  silent  progress 
through  obscurity,  at  the  shop  of  a  broker  who, 
being  ignorant  of  its  value,  sold  it  for  a  few  shil- 
lings, it  must  necessarily  have  been  unattended  by 
any  history  whatever.  And  if  it  was  purchased 
at  a  sale  of  goods  at  the  Boar's  Head,  as  neither 
the  master  of  the  house,  or  his  two  predecessors, 
had  the  least  idea  of  having  possessed  such  a  cu- 
riosity, no  intelligence  could  be  sent  abroad  with 


been  any,  he  is  sure  she  would  not  have  failed  to  describe  them 
in  her  accounts  of  her  former  business  and  place  of  abode,  which 
supplied  her  with  materials  for  conversation  to  the  very  end  of  a 
long  life. 

4  The  four  last  publicans  who  kept  this  tavern  are  said  to  have 
filled  the  whole  period,  from  the  time  of  Vertue's  inquiries,  to 
the  year  1788,  when  the  Boar's  Head,  having  been  untenanted 
for  five  years,  was  converted  into  two  dwellings  for  shopkeepers. 


MR.  RICHARDSON'S  PROPOSALS.    11 

it  from  that  quarter.  In  either  case  then  we  may 
suppose,  that  the  legend  relative  to  the  name  of  its 
painter,5  and  the  place  where  it  was  found,  (not- 
withstanding both  these  particulars  might  be  true,) 
were  at  hazard  appended  to  the  portrait  under  con- 
sideration, as  soon  as  its  similitude  to  Shakspeare 
had  been  acknowledged,  and  his  name  discovered 
on  the  back  of  it. — This  circumstance,  however, 
cannot  affect  the  credit  of  the  picture;  for  (as  the 
late  Lord  Mansfield  observed  in  the  Douglas  con- 
troversy) "  there  are  instances  in  which  falshood 
has  been  employed  in  support  of  a  real  fact,  and 
that  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  man  to  defend 
a  true  cause  by  fabulous  pretences." 

That  Shakspeare's  family  possessed  no  resem- 
blance of  him,  there  is  sufficient  reason  to  believe. 
Where  then  was  this  fashionable  and  therefore  ne- 
cessary adjunct  to  his  works  to  be  sought  for?  If 
any  where,  in  London,  the  theatre  of  his  fame  and 
fortune,  and  the  only  place  where  painters,  at  that 
period,  could  have  expected  to  thrive  by  their  pro- 
fession. We  may  suppose  too,  that  the  booksellers 
who  employed  Droeshout,  discovered  the  object  of 
their  research  by  the  direction  of  Ben  Jonson,6  who 
in  the  following  lines  has  borne  the  most  ample 
testimony  to  the  verisimilitude  of  a  portrait  which 
will  now  be  recommended,  by  a  more  accurate  and 
finished  engraving,  to  the  publick  notice  : 

*  The  tradition  that  Burbage  painted  a  likeness  of  Shakspeare, 
has  been  current  in  the  world  ever  since  the  appearance  of  Mr. 
f  Granger's  Biographical  History. 

6  It  is  not  improbable  that  Ben  Jonson  furnished  the  Dedi- 
cation and  Introduction  to  the  first  folio,  as  well  as  the  Com- 
mendatory Verses  prefixed  to  it. 


12  PREFACE  TO 

The  figure,  that  thou  here  seest  put, 
It  was  for  gentle  Shakespeare  cut ; 
Wherein  the  graver  had  a  strife 
With  Nature,  to  outdoo  the  life : 
O,  could  he  but  have  drawne  his  wit 
As  well  in  brasse,  as  he  hath  hit 
His  face;7  the  print  would  then  surpasse 
All  that  was  ever  writ  in  brasse. 
But,  since  he  cannot,  Reader,  looke 
Not  on  his  picture,  but  his  Booke." 

That  the  legitimate  resemblance  of  such  a  man 
has  been  indebted  to  chance  for  its  preservation, 
would  excite  greater  astonishment,  were  it  not  re- 
collected, that  a  portrait  of  him  has  lately  become 
an  object  of  far  higher  consequence  and  estimation 
than  it  was  during  the  period  he  flourished  in,  and 
the  twenty  years  succeeding  it ;  for  the  profession 
of  a  player  was  scarcely  then  allowed  to  be  reputa- 
ble. This  remark,  however,  ought  not  to  stand 
unsupported  by  a  passage  in  The  Microcosmos  of 
John  Davies  of  Hereford,  4to.  1605,  p.  215,  where, 
after  having  indulged  himself  in  a  long  and  severe 
strain  of  satire  on  the  vanity  and  affectation  of  the 
actors  of  his  age,  he  subjoins— 


as  he  hath  hit 


His  face ;]  It  should  seem  from  these  words,  that  the  plate 
prefixed  to  the  folio  1623  exhibited  such  a  likeness  of  Shakspeare 
as  satisfied  the  eye  of  his  contemporary,  Ben  Jonson,  who,  on 
an  occasion  like  this,  would  hardly  have  ventured  to  assert  what 
it  was  in  the  power  of  many  of  his  readers  to  contradict.  When 
will  evidence  half  so  conclusive  be  produced  in  favour  of  the 
Davenantico-Bettertonian-Barryan-Keckian-Nicolsian-Chando- 
san  canvas,  which  bears  not  the  slightest  resemblance  to  the 
original  of  Droeshout's  and  Marshall's  engraving  ? 


MR.  RICHARDSON'S  PROPOSALS.     13 

"  Players,  I  loue  yee  and  your  qualitie, 

"  As  ye  are  men  that  pass  time  not  abus'd  : 

"  And  some  I  loue  for  painting,  poesie,*     *u  w.s.r.b." 

"  And  say  fell  fortune  cannot  be  excus'd, 

M  That  hath  for  better  uses  you  refus'd : 

"  Wit,  courage,  good  shape,  good  partes,  are  all  good, 

"  As  long  as  all  these  goods  are  no  worse  us'd  ;8 

"  And  though  the  stage  doth  staine  pure  gentle  bloud, 

**  Yet  generous  yee  are  in  minde  and  moode." 

The  reader  will  observe  from  the  initials  in  the 
margin  of  the  third  of  these  wretched  lines,  that 
W.  Shakspeare  was  here  alluded  to  as  the  poet,  and 
R.  Burbage  as  the  painter. 

Yet  notwithstanding  this  compliment  to  the 
higher  excellencies  of  our  author,  it  is  almost  cer- 
tain that  his  resemblance  owes  its  present  safety  to 
the  shelter  of  a  series  of  garrets  and  lumber-rooms, 
in  which  it  had  sculked  till  it  found  its  way  into 
the  broker's  shop  from  whence  the  discernment  of 
a  modern  connoisseur  so  luckily  redeemed  it. 

It  may  also  be  observed,  that  an  excellent  ori- 
ginal of  Ben  Jonson  was  lately  bought  at  an  obscure 
auction  by  Mr.  Ritson  of  Gray's  Inn,  and  might 
once  have  been  companion  to  the  portrait  of  Shak- 
speare thus  fortunately  restored,  after  having  been 
lost  to  the  publick  for  a  century  and  a  half.  They 
are,  nevertheless,  performances  by  very  different 
artists.  The  face  of  Shakspeare  was  imitated  by  a 
delicate  pencil,  that  of  Jonson  by  a  bolder  hand. 
It  is  not  designed,  however,  to  appretiate  the  dis- 
tinct value  of  these  pictures;  though  it  must  be 
allowed  (as  several  undoubted  originals  of  old  Ben 


are  all  good, 


As  long  as  all  these  goods  are  no  "worse  us'd;]    So,  in  our 
author's  Othello: 

"  Where  virtue  is,  these  are  most  virtuous." 


14    MR.  RICHARDSON'S  PROPOSALS. 

are  extant)  that  an  authentick  head  of  Shakspeare 
is  the  greater  desideratum. 

To  conclude — those  who  assume  the  liberty  of 
despising  prints  when  moderately  executed,  may  be 
taught  by  this  example  the  use  and  value  of  them; 
since  to  a  coarse  engraving  by  a  second-rate  artist,9 
the  publick  is  indebted  for  the  recovery  of  the  only 
genuine  portrait  of  its  favourite  Shakspeare. 


PROPOSALS 

BY 

WILLIAM  RICHARDSON, 

PRINTSELLER,  CASTLE  STREET,  LEICESTER  SQUARE, 

FOR   THE    PUBLICATION    OF 

TWO    PLATES 

FROM    THE   PICTURE   ALREADY   DESCRIBED. 


THESE  Plates  are  to  be  engraved  of  an  octavo 
size,  and  in  the  most  finished  style,  by  T.  Trotter. 
A  fac-simile  of  the  hand- writing,  date,  &c.  at  the 


'  9  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  Shakspeare's  is  the  earliest 
known  portrait  of  Droeshout's  engraving.  No  wonder  then  that 
his  performances  twenty  years  after,  are  found  to  be  executed 
with  a  somewhat  superior  degree  of  skill  and  accuracy.  Yet  still 
he  was  a  poor  engraver,  and  his  productions  are  sought  for  more 
on  account  of  their  scarcity  than  their  beauty.  He  seems  in- 
deed to  have  pleased  so  little  in  this  country,  that  there  are  not 
above  six"  or  seven  heads  of  his  workmanship  to  be  found. 


MR.  RICHARDSON'S  PROPOSALS.    15 

back  of  the  picture,  will  be  given  at  the  bottom  of 
one  of  them. 

They  will  be  impressed  both  on  octavo  and 
quarto  paper,  so  as  to  suit  the  best  editions  of  the 
plays  of  Shakspeare. 

Price  of  the  pair  to  Subscribers  7s.  6d.  No 
Proofs  will  be  taken  oft*.  Non-subscribers  10s.  6d. 

The  money  to  be  paid  at  the  time  of  subscribing, 
or  at  the  delivery  of  the  prints,  which  will  be  ready 
on  December  1st,  1794. 

Such  portions  of  the  hair,  ruff,  and  drapery,  as 
are  wanting  in  the  original  picture,  will  be  sup- 
plied from  Droeshout's  and  Marshall's  copies  of  it, 
in  which  the  inanimate  part  of  the  composition 
may  be  safely  followed.  The  mere  outline  in  half 
of  the  plate  that  accompanies  the  finished  one,  will 
serve  to  ascertain  how  far  these  supplements  have 
been  adopted.  To  such  scrupulous  fidelity  the 
publick  (which  has  long  been  amused  by  inade- 
quate or  ideal  likenesses  of  Shakspeare)  has  an  un- 
doubted claim  ;  and  should  any  fine  ladies  and 
gentlemen  of  the  present  age  be  disgusted  at  the 
stiff  garb  of  our  author,  they  may  readily  turn 
their  eyes  aside,  and  feast  them  on  the  more  easy 
and  elegant  suit  of  clothes  provided  for  him  by  his 
modern  tailors,  Messieurs  Zoust,  Vertue,  Hou- 
braken,  and  the  humble  imitators  of  their  suppo- 
sititious drapery. 

The  dress  that  Shakspeare  wears  in  this  ancient 
picture,  might  have  been  a  theatrical  one;  as  in  the 
course  of  observation  such  another  habit  has  not 
occurred.  Marshall,  when  he  engraved  from  the 
same  portrait,  materially  altered  its  paraphernalia, 
and,  perhaps,  because  he  thought  a  stage  garb  did 
not  stand  so  characteristically  before  a  volume  of 
Poems  as  before  a  collection  of  Plays ;  and  yet  it 


16    MR.  RICHARDSON'S  PROPOSALS. 

must  be  confessed,  that  this  change  might  have 
been  introduced  for  no  other  reason  than  more 
effectually  to  discriminate  his  own  production  from 
that  of  his  predecessor.  On  the  same  account  also 
he  might  have  reversed  the  figure. 

N.  B.  The  plates  to  be  delivered  in  the  order 
they  are  subscribed  for;  and  subscriptions  received 
at  Mr.  Richardson's,  where  the  original  portrait 
(by  permission  of  Samuel  Felton,  Esq.)  will  be  ex- 
hibited for  the  inspection  of  subscribers,  together 
with  the  earlier  engravings  from  it  by  Droeshout 
in  1623,  and  Marshall  in  1640.1 

WILLIAM  RICHARDSON. 

Castle  Street,  Leicester  Square, 
Nov.  5,  1794. 


1  It  is  common  for  an  artist  who  engraves  from  a  painting  that 
has  been  already  engraved,  to  place  the  work  of  his  predecessor 
before  him,  that  he  may  either  catch  some  hints  from  it,  or  learn 
to  avoid  its  errors.  Marshall  most  certainly  did  so  in  the  present 
instance;  but  while  he  corrected  Droeshout's  ruff,  he  has  been 
led  by  him  to  desert  his  original  in  an  unauthorised  expansion  of 
our  author's  forehead. 


SUPPLEMENT 

TO   THE 

PROPOSALS  OF  MR.  RICHARDSON. 


WHEN  the  newly  discovered  Portrait  of  our 

freat  Dramatick  Writer  was  first  shown  in  Castle 
treet,  the  few  remaining  advocates  for  the  Ckan- 
dosan  canvas  observed,  that  its  unwelcome  rival 
exhibited  not  a  single  trait  of  Shakspeare.  But, 
all  on  a  sudden,  these  criticks  have  shifted  their 
ground ;  and  the  representation  originally  pro- 
nounced to  have  been  so  unlike  our  author,  is 
since  declared  to  be  an  immediate  copy  from  the 
print  by  Martin  Droeshout. 

But  by  what  means  are  such  direct  contrarieties 
of  opinion  to  be  reconciled  ?  If  no  vestige  of  the 
Poet's  features  was  discernible  in  the  Picture,  how 
is  it  proved  to  be  a  copy  from  an  engraving  by 
which  alone  those  features  can  be  ascertained?  No 
man  will  assert  one  thing  to  have  been  imitated 
from  another,  without  allowing  that  there  is  some 
unequivocal  and  determined  similitude  between 
the  objects  compared. — The  truth  is,  that  the  first 
point  of  objection  to  this  unexpected  Portrait  was 
soon  overpowered  by  a  general  suffrage  in  its  fa- 
vour. A  second  attack  was  therefore  hazarded, 
and  has  yet  more  lamentably  failed. 

As  a  further  note  of  the  originality  of  the  Head 
belonging  to  Mr.  Felton,  it  may  be  urged,  that  the 
artist  who  had  ability  to  produce  such  a  delicate 
vol.  i.  c 


18  SUPPLEMENT  TO 

and  finished  Portrait,  could  most  certainly  have 
made  an  exact  copy  from  a  very  coarse  print,  pro- 
vided he  had  not  disdained  so  servile  an  occupation. 
On  the  contrary,  a  rude  engraver  like  Droeshout, 
would  necessarily  have  failed  in  his  attempt  to  ex- 
press the  gentler  graces  of  so  delicate  a  picture. 
Our  ancient  handlers  of  the  burin  were  often  faith- 
less to  the  character  of  their  originals ;  and  it  is 
conceived  that  some  other  performances  by  Droe- 
shout will  furnish  no  exception  to  this  remark. 

Such  defective  imitations,  however,  even  at  this 
period,  are  sufficiently  common.  Several  prints 
from  well-known  portraits  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
and  Mr.  Romney,  are  rendered  worthless  by  simi- 
lar infidelities ;  for  notwithstanding  these  mezzo- 
tints preserve  the  outlines  and  general  effect  of 
their  originals,  the  appropriate  characters  of  them 
are  as  entirely  lost  as  that  of  Shakspeare  under  the 
hand  of  Droeshout. — Because,  therefore,  an  en- 
graving has  only  a  partial  resemblance  to  its  arche- 
type, are  we  at  liberty  to  pronounce  that  the  one 
could  not  have  been  taken  from  the  other  ? 

It  may  also  be  observed,  that  if  Droeshout's 
plate  had  been  followed  by  the  painter,  the  line  in 
front  of  the  ruff  would  have  been  incurvated,  and 
not  have  appeared  straight,  as  it  is  in  the  smaller 
print  by  Marshall  from  the  same  picture.  In  anti- 
quated English  portraits,  examples  of  rectilineal 
ruffs  are  familiar ;  but  where  will  be  found  such 
another  as  the  German  has  placed  under  the  chin 
of  his  metamorphosed  poet  ?  From  its  pointed 
corners,  resembling  the  wings  of  a  bat,  which  are 
constant  indications  of  mischievous  agency,  the 
engraver's  ruff  would  have  accorded  better  with 
the  pursuits  of  his  necromantick  countryman,  the 
celebrated  Doctor  Faustus. 


MR.  RICHARDSON'S  PROPOSALS.     19 

In  the  mean  while  it  is  asserted  by  every  ade- 
quate judge,  that  the  coincidences  between  the 
picture  and  the  print  under  consideration,  are  too 
strong  and  too  numerous  to  have  been  the  effects 
of  chance.  And  yet  the  period  at  which  this  like- 
ness of  our  author  must  have  been  produced,  affords 
no  evidence  that  any  one  of  our  early  limners  had 
condescended  to  borrow  the  general  outline  and  dis- 
position of  his  portraits  from  the  tasteless  heads  pre- 
fixed to  volumes  issued  out  by  booksellers.  The  art- 
ist, indeed,  who  could  have  filched  from  Droeshout, 
like  Bardolph,  might  have  "  stolen  a  lute-case,  car- 
ried  it  twelve  leagues,  and  sold  it  for  three  half- 
pence." 

But  were  the  print  allowed  to  be  the  original,  and 
the  painting  a  mere  copy  from  it,  the  admission  of 
this  fact  would  militate  in  full  force  against  the  au- 
thenticity of  every  other  anonymous  and  undated 
portrait  from  which  a  wretched  old  engraving  had 
been  made ;  as  it  would  always  enable  cavillers  to 
assert,  that  the  painting  was  subsequent  to  the 
print,  and  not  the  print  to  the  painting.  True 
judges,  however,  would  seldom  fail  to  determine, 
(as  they  have  in  the  present  instance,)  whether  a 
painting  was  coldly  imitated  from  a  lumpish  cop- 
per-plate, or  taken  warm  from  animated  nature. 

For  the  discussion  of  subjects  like  these,  an  eye 
habituated  to  minute  comparison,  and  attentive  to 
peculiarities  that  elude  the  notice  of  unqualified 
observers,  is  also  required.  Shakspeare's  counte- 
nance deformed  by  Droeshout,  resembles  the  sign 
of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  when  it  had  been 
changed  into  a  Saracen's  head ;  on  which  occasion 
the  Spectator  observes,  that  the  features  of  the 

gentle   Knight  were   still   apparent  through  the 
neaments  of  the  ferocious  Mussulman. 
That  the  leading  thought  in  the  verses  annexed 

C  2 


20  SUPPLEMENT  TO 

to  the  plate  by  Droeshout  is  hacknied  and  com- 
mon, will  most  readily  be  allowed ;  and  this  obser- 
vation would  have  carried  weight  with  it,  had  the 
lines  in  question  been  anonymous.  But  the  sub- 
scription of  Ben  Jonson's  name  was  a  circumstance 
that  rendered  him  immediately  responsible  for  the 
propriety  of  an  encomium  which,  however  open 
to  dispute,  appears  to  have  escaped  contradiction, 
either  metrical  or  prosaick,  from  the  surviving 
friends  of  Shakspeare. 

But,  another  misrepresentation,  though  an  in- 
voluntary one,  and  of  more  recent  date,  should 
not  be  overlooked. 

In  the  matter  prefatory  to  W.  Richardson's  Pro- 
posals, the  plate  by  Vertue  from  Mr.  Keek's  (now 
the  CkandosJ  picture,  is  said  to  have  succeeded  the 
engraving  before  Mr.  Pope's  edition  of  Shakspeare, 
in  six  volumes  quarto.2  But  the  contrary  is  the  fact; 
and  how  is  this  circumstance  to  be  accounted  for? 
If  in  1719  Vertue  supposed  the  head  which  he 
afterwards  admitted  into  his  Set  of  Poets,  was  a 
genuine  representation,  how  happened  it  that  his 
next  engraving  of  the  same  author,  in  1 725,  was 
taken  from  quite  a  different  painting,  in  the  col- 
lection of  the  Earl  of  Oxford  ?  Did  the  artist,  in 
this  instance,  direct  the  judgment  of  his  Lordship 
and  Mr.  Pope?  or  did  their  joint  opinion  over-rule 
that  of  the  artist  ?  These  portraits,  being  wholly 
unlike  each  other,  could  not  (were  the  slightest 
degree  of  respect  due  to  either  of  them)  be  both 
received  as  legitimate  representations  of  Shak- 
speare.—Perhaps,  Vertue  (who  is  described  by 

*  This  mistake  originated  from  a  passage  in  Lord  Orford's 
Anecdotes,  &c.  8vo.  Vol.  V.  p.  258,  where  it  is  said,  and  truly, 
that  Vertue's  Set  of  Poets  appeared  in  1730.  The  particular 
plate  of  Shakspeare,  however,  as  is  proved  by  a  date  at  the  bot- 
tom of  it,  was  engraved  in  1719. 


MR.  RICHARDSON'S  PROPOSALS.    21 

Lord  Orford  as  a  lover  of  truth,)  began. to  doubt 
the  authenticity  of  the  picture  from  which  his  first 
engraving  had  been  made,  and  was  therefore  easily 
persuaded  to  expend  his  art  on  another  portrait, 
the  spuriousness  of  which  (to  himself  at  least)  was 
not  quite  so  evident  as  that  of  its  predecessor. 

The  publick,  for  many  years  past,  has  been  fa- 
miliarized to  a  Vandyckish  head  of  Shakspeare,  in- 
troduced by  Simon's  mezzotinto  from  a  painting 
by  Zoust.  Hence  the  countenance  of  our  author's 
monumental  effigy  at  Westminster  was  modelled ; 
and  a  kindred  representation  of  him  has  been 
given  by  Roubiliac.     Such  is  still  the  Shakspeare 
that  decorates  our  libraries,  and  seals  our  letters. 
But,  cetatis  cujusque  notandi  sunt  tibi  mores.     On  a 
little  reflection  it  might  have  occurred,  that  the 
cavalier  turn  of  head  adopted  from  the  gallant 
partizans  of  Charles  I.  afforded  no  just  resemblance 
of  the  sober  and  chastised  countenances  predomi- 
nating in  the  age  of  Elizabeth,  during  which  our 
poet  nourished,  though  he  survived  till  James,  for 
about  thirteen  years,  had  disgraced  the  throne.— 
The  foregoing  hint  may  be  pursued  by  the  judici- 
ous examiner,  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  compare 
the  looks  and  air  of  Shakspeare's  contemporaries 
with  the  modern  sculptures,  &c.  designed  to  per- 
petuate his  image.    The  reader  may  then  draw  an 
obvious  inference  from  these  premises ;  and  con- 
clude, that  the  portrait  lately  exhibited  to  the  pub- 
lick  is  not  supposititious  because  it  presents  a  less 
spritely  and  confident  assemblage  of  features  than 
had  usually  been  imputed  to  the  modest  and  un- 
assuming parent  of  the  British  theatre. — It  is  cer- 
tain, that  neither  the  Zoustian  or  Chandosan  canvas 
has  displayed  the  least  trait  of  a  quiet  and  gentle 
bard  of  the  Elizabethan  age. 
To  ascertain  the  original  owner  of  the  portrait 


22  SUPPLEMENT  TO 

now  Mr.  Felton's,  is  an  undertaking  difficult 
enough ;  and  yet  conjecture  may  occasionally  be 
sent  out  on  a  more  hopeless  errand. 

The  old  pictures  at  Tichfield  House,  as  part  of 
the  Wriothesley  property,  were  divided,  not  many 
years  ago,  between  the  Dukes  of  Portland  and 
Beaufort.  Some  of  these  paintings  that  were  in 
good  condition  were  removed  to  Bulstrode,  where 
two  portraits3  of  Shakspeare's  Earl  of  Southamp- 
ton are  still  preserved.  What  became  of  other 
heads  which  time  or  accident  had  impaired,  and  at 
what  period  the  remains  of  the  furniture,  &c.  of 
his  Lordship's  venerable  mansion  were  sold  off  and 
dispersed,  it  may  be  fruitless  to  enquire. 

Yet,  as  the  likeness  of  our  author  lately  redeem- 
ed from  obscurity  was  the  work  of  some  eminent 
Flemish  artist,  it  was  probably  painted  for  a  per- 
sonage of  distinction,  and  might  therefore  have 
belonged  to  the  celebrated  Earl  whom  Shakspeare 
had  previously  complimented  by  the  dedication  of 
his  Venus  and  Adonis.  Surely,  it  is  not  unreason- 
able to  suppose,  that  a  resemblance  of  our  excel- 
lent dramatick  poet  might  have  been  found  in  the 
house  of  a  nobleman  who  is  reported  to  have  loved 
him  well  enough  to  have  presented  him  with  a 
thousand  pounds. 

To  conclude — the  names4  which  have  honoured 


■  One  of  these  portraits  is  on  canvas,  and  therefore  the  ge- 
nuineness of  it  is  controverted,  if  not  denied. 

4  In  the  numerous  List  of  Gentlemen  who  thoroughly  exa- 
mined this  original  Picture,  were  convinced  of  its  authenticity, 
and  immediately  became  Subscribers  to  W.  Richardson,  are  the 
names  of— Dr.  Farmer,  Mr.  Cracherode,  Mr.  Bindley,  Sir  Jo- 
seph Banks,  Sir  George  Shuckburgh,  Mr.  Chalmers,  Mr.  Reed, 
Mr.  Ritson,  Mr.  Douce,  Mr.  Markham,  Mr.  Weston,  Mr.  Ly- 
sons,  Mr.  James,  Col.  Stanley,  Mr.  Combe,  Mr.  Lodge,  Mess. 
Smith,  sen.  and  jun.  Mr.  Nicol,  Mr.  Boaden,  Mr.  Pearce,  Mr. 


MR.  RICHARDSON'S  PROPOSALS.    23 

the  subscription  for  an  engraving  from  this  new- 
found portrait  of  Shakspeare,  must  be  allowed  to 
furnish  the  most  decisive  estimate  of  its  value. 

[C5"  Since  the  foregoing  Paper  teas  received,  we 
have  been  authorized  to  inform  the  Publick,  that 
Messieurs  Boydell  and  Nicol  are  so  thoroughly  con- 
vinced of  the  genuineness  of  Mr.  Felton's  Shak- 
speare, that  they  are  determined  to  engrave  it  as  a 
Frontispiece  to  their  splendid  Edition  of  our  Author, 
instead  of  having  recourse  to  the  exploded  Picture 
inherited  by  the  Chandos  Family, .] 

From  the  European  Magazine,  for  December, 
1794. 

Whitefoord,  Mr.  Thane,  Mess.  Boydell,  Mr.  G.  Romney,  Mr. 
Lawrence,  (Portrait-painter  to  his  Majesty,)  Mr.  Bowyer,  (Mi- 
niature-painter to  his  Majesty,)  Mr.  Barry,  R.  A.  (Professor  of 
Painting,)  &c.  &c.  &c. 


The  following  pages,  on  account  of  their  con- 
nection with  the  subject  of  Mr.  Richardson's  Re- 
marks, are  suffered  to  stand  as  in  our  last  edition. 


ADVERTISEMENT 

PREFIXED  TO  EDITION  1793. 


THE  reader  may  observe  that,  contrary  to  former 
usage,  no  head  of  Shakspeare  is  prefixed  to  the 
present  edition  of  his  plays.  The  undisguised  fact 
is  this.  The  only  portrait  of  him  that  even  pretends 
to  authenticity,  by  means  of  injudicious  cleaning, 
or  some  other  accident,  has  become  little  better 
than  the  "shadow  of  a  shade."5  The  late  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  indeed  once  suggested,  that 
whatever  person  it  was  designed  for,  it  might  have 
been  left,  as  it  now  appears,  unfinished.  Various 
copies  and  plates,  however,  are  said  at  different 
times  to  have  been  made  from  it ;  but  a  regard  for 
truth  obliges  us  to  confess  that  they  are  all  unlike 
each  other,6  and  convey  no  distinct  resemblance 


*  Such,  we  think,  were  the  remarks,  that  occurred  to  us  se- 
veral years  ago,  when  this  portrait  was  accessible.  We  wished 
indeed  to  have  confirmed  them  by.a  second  view  of  it ;  but  a 
late  accident  in  the  noble  family  to  which  it  belongs,  has  pre- 
cluded us  from  that  satisfaction. 

6  Vertue's  portraits  havebeen  over-praised  on  account  of  their 
fidelity;  for  we  have  now  before  us  six  different  heads  of  Shak- 
speare engraved  by  him,  and  do  not  scruple  to  assert  that  they 
have  individually  a  different  cast  of  countenance.  Cucullus  non 
Jacit  monachum.  The  shape  of  our  author's  ear-ring  and  falling- 
band  may  correspond  in  them  all,  but  where  shall  we  find  an 
equal  conformity  in  his  features  ? 

Few  objects  indeed  are  occasionally  more  difficult  to  seize, 
than  the  slender  traits  that  mark  the  character  of  a  face ;  and  the 


ADVERTISEMENT.  25 

of  the  poor  remains  of  their  avowed  original.  Of 
the  drapery  and  curling  hair  exhibited  in  the  ex- 
cellent engravings  of  Mr.  Vertue,  Mr.  Hall,  and 
Mr.  Knight,  the  painting  does  not  afford  a  vestige; 
nor  is  there  a  feature  or  circumstance  on  the  whole 
canvas,  that  can  with  minute  precision  be  deline- 
ated.— We  must  add,  that  on  very  vague  and  dubi- 
ous authority  this  head  has  hitherto  been  received 
as  a  genuine  portrait  of  our  author,  who  probably 
left  behind  him  no  such  memorial  of  his  face.  As 
he  was  careless  of  the  future  state  of  his  works, 
his  solicitude  might  not  have  extended  to  the  per- 
petuation of  his  looks.  Had  any  portrait  of  him 
existed,  we  may  naturally  suppose  it  must  have 
belonged  to  his  family,  who  (as  Mark  Antony  says 
of  a  hair  of  Caesar)  would 

"  have  raention'd  it  within  their  wills, 

"  Bequeathing  it  as  a  rich  legacy 
"  Unto  their  issue  f* 

and  were  there  ground  for  the  report  that  Shak- 
speare  was  the  real  father  of  Sir  William  D'Ave- 
nant,  and  that  the  picture  already  spoken  of  was 
painted  for  him,  we  might  be  tempted  to  observe 
with  our  author,  that  the 

bastard  son 


"  Was  kinder  to  his  father,  than  his  daughters 
•'  Got  'twixt  the  natural  sheets." 

But  in  support  of  either  supposition  sufficient  evi- 
dence has  not  been  produced.  The  former  of  these 

eye  will  often  detect  the  want  of  them,  when  the  most  exact 
mechanical  process  cannot  decide  on  the  places  in  which  they  are 
omitted. — Vertue,  in  short,  though  a  laborious,  was  a  very  in- 
different draughtsman,  and  his  best  copies  too  often  exhibit  a 
general  instead  of  a  particular  resemblance. 


26  ADVERTISEMENT. 

tales  has  no  better  foundation  than  the  vanity  of 
our  degener  Neoptolemus,7  and  the  latter  originates 
from  modern  conjecture.  The  present  age  will 
probably  allow  the  vintner's  ivy  to  Sir  William,  but 

7  Nor  docs  the  same  piece  of  ancient  scandal  derive  much 
weight  from  Aubrey's  adoption  of  it.  The  reader  who  is  ac- 
quainted with  the  writings  of  this  absurd  gossip,  will  scarcely  pay 
more  attention  to  him  on  the  present  occasion,  than  when  he 
gravely  assures  us  that  "  Anno  1 670,  not  far  from  Cirencester 
was  an  apparition ;  being  demanded  whether  a  good  spirit  or  a 
bad  ?  returned  no  answer,  but  disappeared  with  a  curious  perfume 
and  most  melodious  twang.  Mr.  W.  Lilly  believes  it  was  a  fairy." 
See  Aubrey's  Miscellanies,  edit.  1/84,  p.  114. — Aubrey,  in 
short,  was  a  dupe  to  every  wag  who  chose  to  practise  on  his  cre- 
dulity ;  and  would  most  certainly  have  believed  the  person  who 
should  have  told  him  that  Shakspeare  himself  was  a  natural  son 
of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

An  additional  and  no  less  pleasant  proof  of  Aubrey's  cullibility, 
may  be  found  at  the  conclusion  of  one  of  his  own  Letters  to  Mr. 
Ray ;  where,  after  the  enumeration  of  several  wonderful  methods 
employed  by  old  women  and  Irishmen  to  cure  the  gout,  agues, 
and  the  bloody  flux,  he  adds :  "  Sir  Christopher  Wren  told  me 
once  [eating  of  strawberries]  that  if  one  that  has  a  wound  in  the 
head  eats  them,  'tis  mortal." 

See  Philosophical  Letters  between  the  late  learned  Mr.  Ray 
SfC.  Published  by  William  Derham,  Chaplain  to  his  Royal 
Highness  George  Prince  of  Wales,  fy  F.  R.  S.  Svo,  J  7 18,  p.  251. 

In  the  foregoing  instance  our  letter-writer  seems  to  have  been 
perfectly  unconscious  of  the  jocularity  of  Sir  Christopher,  who 
would  have  meant  nothing  more  by  his  remark,  than  to  secure 
his  strawberries,  at  the  expence  of  an  allusion  to  the  crack  in 
poor  Aubrey's  head.  Thus  when  Falstaff  "  did  desire  to  eat  some 
prawns,"  Mrs.  Quickly  told  him  "  they  were  ill  for  a  green 
wound." 

Mr.  T.  Warton  has  pleasantly  observed  that  he  "  cannot 
suppose  Shakspeare  to  have  been  the  father  of  a  Doctor  of 
Divinity  who  never  laughed;"  and— to  waste  no  more  words 
on  Sir  William  D'Avenant, — let  but  our  readers  survey  his 
heavy,  vulgar,  unmeaning  face,  and,  if  we  mistake  not,  they 
will  as  readily  conclude  that  Shakspeare  "  never  holp  to  make 
it.'*  So  despicable,  indeed,  is  his  countenance  as  represented  by 
Faithorne,  that  it  appears  to  have  sunk  that  celebrated  engraver 
beneath  many  a  common  artist  in  the  same  line. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  27 

with  equal  justice  will  withhold  from  him  the 
poet's  bays. — To  his  pretensions  of  descent  from 
Shakspeare,  one  might  almost  be  induced  to  apply 
a  ludicrous  passage  uttered  by  Fielding's  Phaeton 
in  Hie  Suds: 


by  all  the  parish  boys  I'm  flamm'd : 


"  You  the  sun's  son,  you  rascal !  you  be  d d. 

About  the  time  when  this  picture  found  its  way 
into  Mr.  Keek's  hands,  the  verification  of  portraits 
was  so  little  attended  to,  that  both  the  Earl  of 
Oxford,  and  Mr.  Pope,  admitted  a  juvenile  one  of 
King  James  I.  as  that  of  Shakspeare.8  Among  the 
heads  of  illustrious  persons  engraved  by  Houbra- 
ken,  are  several  imaginary  ones,  beside  Ben  Jon- 
son's  andOtway's;  and  old  Mr.  Langford  positively 
asserted  that,  in  the  same  collection,  the  grand- 
father of  Cock  the  auctioneer  had  the  honour  to 
personate  the  great  and  amiable  Thurloe,  secretary 
of  state  to  Oliver  Cromwell. 

From  the  price  of  forty  guineas  paid  for  the  sup- 
posed portrait  of  our  autnor  to  Mrs.  Barry,  the  real 
value  of  it  should  not  be  inferred.  The  possession 
of  somewhat  more  animated  than  canvas,  might 


•  Much  respect  is  due  to  the  authority  of  portraits  that  descend 
in  families  from  heir  to  heir ;  but  little  reliance  can  be  placed  on 
them  when  they  are  produced  for  sale  (as  in  the  present  instance) 
by  alien  hands,  almost  a  century  after  the  death  of  the  person 
supposed  to  be  represented ;  and  then,  (as  Edmund  says  in  King 
Lear)  "  come  pat,  like  the  catastrophe  of  the  old  comedy." 
Shakspeare  was  buried  in  ]6l6;  and  in  1/08  the  first  notice  of 
this  picture  occurs.  Where  there  is  such  a  chasm  in  evidence, 
the  validity  of  it  may  be  not  unfairly  questioned,  and  especially 
by  those  who  remember  a  species  of  fraud ulence  recorded  in  Mr. 
Foote's  Taste:  **  Clap  Lord  Dupe's  arms  on  that  halt-length  of 
Erasmus ;  I  have  sold  it  him  as  his  great  grandfather's  third  bro- 
ther, for  fifty  guineas." 


28  ADVERTISEMENT. 

have  been  included,  though  not  specified,  in  a  bar- 
gain with  an  acticss  of  acknowledged  gallantry. 

Yet  allowing  this  to  be  a  mere  fanciful  insinua- 
tion, a  rich  man  does  not  easily  miss  what  he  is 
ambitious  to  find.  At  least  he  may  be  persuaded 
he  has  found  it,  a  circumstance  which,  as  far  as  it 
affects  his  own  content,  will  answer,  for  a  while, 
the  same  purpose.  Thus  the  late  Mr.  Jennens,  of 
Gopsal  in  Leicestershire,  for  many  years  congra- 
tulated himself  as  owner  of  another  genuine  por- 
trait of  Shakspeare,  and  by  Cornelius  Jansen ;  nor 
was  disposed  to  forgive  the  writer  who  observed 
that,  being  dated  in  1610,  it  could  not  have  been 
the  work  of  an  artist  who  never  saw  England  till 
1618,  above  a  year  after  our  author's  death. 

So  ready,  however,  are  interested  people  in  as- 
sisting credulous  ones  to  impose  on  themselves, 
that  we  will  venture  to  predict, — if  some  opulent 
dupe  to  the  flimsy  artifice  of  Chatterton  should 
advertise  a  considerable  sum  of  money  for  a  por- 
trait of  the  Pseudo- Rowley,  such  a  desideratum 
would  soon  emerge  from  the  tutelary  crypts  of  St. 
Mary  RedclifF  at  Bristol,  or  a  hitherto  unheard  of 
repository  in  the  tomb  of  Syr  Thybbot  Gorges  at 
Wraxall.1    It  would  also  come  attested  as  a  strong 


*  A  kindred  trick  had  actually  been  passed  off  by  Chatterton 
on  the  late  Mr.  Barrett  of  Bristol,  in  whose  back  parlour  was  a 
pretended  head  of  Canynge,  most  contemptibly  scratched  with  a 
pen  on  a  small  square  piece  of  yellow  parchment,  and  framed 
and  glazed  as  an  authentick  icon  by  the  "  curyous  poyntill"  of 
Rowley.  But  this  same  drawing  very  soon  ceased  to  be  station- 
ary, was  alternately  exhibited  and  concealed,  as  the  wavering 
faith  of  its  possessor  shifted  about,  and  was  prudently  withheld 
at  last  from  the  publick  eye.  Why  it  was  not  inserted  in  the  late 
History  of  Bristol,  as  well  as  Rowley's  plan  and  elevation  of  its 
ancient  castle,  (which  all  the  rules  of  all  the  ages  of  architecture 
pronounce  to  be  spurious)  let  the  Rowleian  advocates  inform  us. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  29 

likeness  of  our  archaeological  bard,  on  the  faith  of 
a  parchment  exhibiting  the  hand  and  seal  of  the 
dygne  Mayster  Wyllyam  Canynge,  setting  forth  that 
Mayster  Thomas  Rowlie  was  so  entyrely  and  passynge 
•wele  belovyd  of  himself,  or  our  poetick  knight,  that 
one  or  the  other  causyd  hys  semblaunce  to  be  ryght 
conynglye  depeyncten  on  a  marveillousefayre  table  of 
wood,  and  ensevelyd  wyth  hym,  that  deth  mote  theym 
not  clene  departyn  and  putte  asunder. — A  similar 
imposition,  however,  would  in  vain  be  attempted 
on  the  editors  of  Shakspeare,  who,  with  all  the  zeal 
of  Rowleians,  are  happily  exempt  from  their  cre- 
dulity. 

A  former  plate  of  our  author,  which  was  copied 
from  Martin  Droeshout's  in  the  title-page  to  the 
folio  1 623,  is  worn  out ;  nor  does  so  "  abominable 
an  imitation  of  humanity"  deserve  to  be  restored. 
The  smaller  head,  prefixed  to  the  Poems  in  1 640, 
is  merely  a  reduced  and  reversed  copy  by  Marshall 
from  its  predecessor,  with  a  few  slight  changes  in 
attitude  and  dress. — We  boast  therefore  of  no  ex- 
terior ornaments,2  except  those  of  better  print  and 
paper  than  have  hitherto  been  allotted  to  any  oc- 
tavo edition  of  Shakspeare. 

Justice  nevertheless  requires  us  to  subjoin,  that 


We  are  happy  at  least  to  have  recollected  a  single  imposition  that 
was  too  gross  for  even  these  gentlemen  to  swallow. — Mr.  Barrett, 
however,  in  the  year  1  TJ(5,  assured  Mr.  Ty rwhitt  and  Mr.  Stee- 
vens,  that  he  received  the  aforesaid  scrawl  of  Canynge  from  Chat- 
terton,  who  described  it  as  having  been  found  in  the  prolifick 
chest,  secured  by  six,  or  six-and-twenty  keys,  no  matter 
which. 

•  They  who  wish  for  decorations  adapted  to  this  edition  of 
Shakspeare,  will  find  them  in  Silvester  Harding's  Portraits  and 
Views,  &c.  &c.  (appropriated  to  the  whole  suite  of  our  author's 
Historical  Dramas,  &c.)  published  in  thirty  numbers. 

See  Gent.  Mag.  June  1769,  p.  257. 


50  ADVERTISEMENT. 

had  an  undoubted  picture  of  our  author  been  at- 
tainable, the  Booksellers  would  most  readily  have 
paid  for  the  best  engraving  from  it  that  could  have 
been  produced  by  the  most  skilful  of  our  modern 
artists  ;  but  it  is  idle  to  be  at  the  charge  of  perpe- 
tuating illusions :  and  who  shall  offer  to  point  out, 
among  the  numerous  prints  of  Shakspeare,  any  one 
that  is  more  like  him  than  the  rest  ?5 

The  play  of  Pericles  has  been  added  to  this  col- 
lection, by  the  advice  of  Dr.  Farmer.  To  make 
room  for  it,  Titus  Andronicus  might  have  been 
omitted  ;  but  our  proprietors  are  of  opinion  that 
some  ancient  prejudices  in  its  favour  may  still 
exist,  and  for  that  reason  only  it  is  preserved. 

We  have  not  reprinted  the  Sonnets,  &c.  of  Shak- 
speare, because  the  strongest  act  of  parliament  that 
could  be  framed  would  fail  to  compel  readers  into 
their  service ;  notwithstanding  these  miscellaneous 
poems  have  derived  every  possible  advantage  from 
the  literature  and  judgment  of  their  only  intelli- 
gent editor,  Mr.  Malone,  whose  implements  of 
criticism,  like  the  ivory  rake  and  golden  spade  in 


*  List  of  the  different  engravings  from  the  Chandosan  Shak- 
epeare : 
By  Vandergucht,  to  Rowe's  edit -.     1709. 

Vertue,  half  sheet,  Set  of  Poets 1710. 

Do.  small  oval,  Jacob's  Lives          1719» 

Do.  to  Warburton's  8vo   .     . 1747. 

Duchange,  8vo.  to  Theobald's 1733. 

Gravelot,  half  sheet,  Hanmer's  edit 1744. 

Houbraken,  half  sheet,  Birch's  Heads     ....     1747« 

Millar,  small  oval,  Capell's  Shakspeare    ....     I76Q. 

Hall,  8vo.  Reed's  edit 1785. 

Cook,  Svo.  Bell's  edit 1788. 

Knight,  8vo.  Mr.  Malone's  edit 1790. 

Harding,  6vo.  Set  of  Prints  to  Shakspeare  .    .     .     1793. 
No  two  of  these  Portraits  are  alike;  nor  does  any  one  of  them 
bear  the  slightest  resemblance  to  its  wretched  original.    G.  S. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  51 

Prudentius,  are  on  this  occasion  disgraced  by  the 
objects  of  their  culture. — Had  Shakspeare  pro- 
duced no  other  works  than  these,  his  name  would 
have  reached  us  with  as  little  celebrity  as  time  has 
conferred  on  that  of  Thomas  Watson,  an  older  and 
much  more  elegant  sonnetteer.6 

What  remains  to  be  added  concerning  this  re- 
publication is,  that  a  considerable  number  of  fresh 
remarks  are  both  adopted  and  supplied  by  the  pre- 
sent editors.  They  have  persisted  in  their  former 
track  of  reading  for  the  illustration  of  their  author, 
and  cannot  help  observing  that  those  who  receive 
the  benefit  of  explanatory  extracts  from  ancient 
writers,  little  know  at  what  expence  of  time  and 
labour  such  atoms  of  intelligence  have  been  col- 
lected.— That  the  foregoing  information,  however, 
may  communicate  no  alarm,  or  induce  the  reader 
to  suppose  we  have  "  bestowed  our  whole  tedious- 
ness"  on  him,  we  should  add,  that  many  notes  have 
likewise  been  withdrawn.  A  few,  manifestly  er- 
roneous, are  indeed  retained,  to  show  how  much 
the  tone  of  Shakspearian  criticism  is  changed,  or 
on  account  of  the  skill  displayed  in  their  confuta- 
tion j  for  surely  every  editor  in  his  turn  is  occa- 


•  His  Sonnets,  though  printed  without  date,  were  entered  in 
the  year  I5bl,  on  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company,  under 
the  title  of  "  Watson's  Passions,  manifesting  the  true  Frenzy  of 
Love." 

Shakspeare  appears  to  have  been  among  the  number  of  his 
readers,  having  in  the  following  passage  of  Venus  and  Adonis,— 

•*  Leading  him  prisoner  in  a  red-rose  chain," 
borrowed  an  idea  from  his  n3d  Sonnet : 

"  The  Muses  not  long  since  intrapping  love 

"  In  ckaines  of  roses,"  &c. 
Watson,  however,  declares  on  tins  occasion  that  he  imitated 
Ronsard;  and  it  must  be  confessed,  with  equal  truth,  that  in  the 
present  instance  Ronsard  bad  been  a  borrower  from  Anacreon. 


32  ADVERTISEMENT. 

sionally  entitled  to  be  seen,  as  he  would  have 
shown  himself,  with  his  vanquished  adversary  at 
his  feet.  We  have  therefore  been  sometimes  will- 
ing to  "  bring  a  corollary,  rather  than  want  a  spi- 
rit." Nor,  to  confess  the  truth,  did  we  always 
think  it  justifiable  to  shrink  our  predecessors  to 
pigmies,  that  we  ourselves,  by  force  of  comparison, 
might  assume  the  bulk  of  giants. 

The  present  editors  must  also  acknowledge,  that 
unless  in  particular  instances,  where  the  voice  of 
the  publick  had  decided  against  the  remarks  of 
Dr.  Johnson,  they  have  hesitated  to  displace  them  j 
and  had  rather  be  charged  with  superstitious  re- 
verence for  his  name,  than  censured  for  a  pre- 
sumptuous disregard  of  his  opinions. 

As  a  large  proportion  of  Mr.  Monck  Mason's 
strictures  on  a  former  edition  of  Shakspeare  are 
here  inserted,  it  has  been  thought  necessary  that 
as  much  of  his  Preface  as  was  designed  to  intro- 
duce them,  should  accompany  their  second  ap- 
pearance. Any  formal  recommendation  of  them 
is  needless,  as  their  own  merit  is  sure  to  rank  their 
author  among  the  most  diligent  and  sagacious  of 
our  celebrated  poet's  annotators. 

It  may  be  proper,  indeed,  to  observe,  that  a  few 
of  these  remarks  are  omitted,  because  they  had  been 
anticipated ;  and  that  a  few  others  have  exclud- 
ed themselves  by  their  own  immoderate  length ;  for 
he  who  publishes  a  series  of  comments  unattended 
by  the  text  of  his  author,  is  apt  to  "  overflow  the 
measure"  allotted  to  marginal  criticism.  In  these 
cases,  either  the  commentator  or  the  poet  must 
give  way,  and  no  reader  will  patiently  endure  to 
see  "  Alcides  beaten  by  his  page." — Inferior  volat 
umbra  deo. — Mr.  M.  Mason  will  also  forgive  us 
if  we  add,  that  a  small  number  of  his  proposed 


ADVERTISEMENT.  33 

amendments  are  suppressed  through  honest  com- 
miseration.    ct  'Tis  much  he  dares,  and  he  has  a 
wisdom  that  often  guides  his  valour  to   act   in 
safety;"  yet  occasionally  he  forgets  the  prudence 
that  should  attend  conjecture,  and  therefore,  in  a 
few  instances,  would  have  been  produced  only  to 
have  been  persecuted. — May  it  be  subjoined,  that 
the  freedom  with  which  the  same  gentleman  has 
treated  the  notes  of  others,  seems  to  have  author- 
ized an  equal  degree   of  licence  respecting  his 
own?     And  yet,  though  the  sword  may  have  been 
drawn  against  him,  he  shall  not  complain  that  its 
point  is  "  unbated  and  envenomed  ;"  for  the  con- 
ductors of  this  undertaking  do  not  scruple  thus 
openly  to  express  their  wishes  that  it  may  have 
merit  enough  to  provoke  a  revision  from  the  ac- 
knowledged learning   and   perspicacity   of  their 
Hibernian  coadjutor. — Every  re-impression  of  our 
great  dramatick  master's  works  must  be  considered 
in  some  degree  as  experimental ;  for  their  corrup- 
tions and  obscurities  are  still  so  numerous,  and 
the  progress  of  fortunate  conjecture  so  tardy  and 
uncertain,  that  our  remote  descendants  may  be 
perplexed  by  passages  that  have  perplexed  usj  and 
the  readings  which  have  hitherto  disunited  the  opi- 
nions of  the  learned,  may  continue  to  disunite 
them  as  long  as  England  and  Shakspeare  have  a 
name.     In  short,  the  peculiarity  once  ascribed  to 
the  poetick  isle  of  Delos,"  may  be  exemplified  in 
our  author's  text,  which,  on  account  of  readings 
alternately  received  and  reprobated,  must  remain 
in  an  unsettled  state,  and  float  in  obedience  to 
every  gale  of  contradictory  criticism. — Could  a 
perfect  and  decisive  editiou  of  the  following  scenes 


—     nee  instabili  fama  superubere  Delo.*' 

Stat.  Achill.  I.  388. 


VOL.  I. 


34  ADVERTISEMENT. 

be  produced,  it  were  to  be  expected  only  (though 
we  fear  in  vain)  from  the  hand  of  Dr.  Farmer,9 
whose  more  serious  avocations  forbid  him  to  under- 
take what  every  reader  would  delight  to  possess. 

But  as  we  are  often  reminded  by  our  "  brethren 
of  the  craft,"  that  this  or  that  emendation,  how- 
ever apparently  necessary,  is  not  the  genuine  text 
qfShakspeare,  it  might  be  imagined  that  we  had 
received  this  text  from  its  fountain  head,  and  were 
therefore  certain  of  its  purity.  Whereas  few  lite- 
rary occurrences  are  better  understood,  than  that  it 
came  down  to  us  discoloured  by  "  the  variation  of 
every  soil"  through  which  it  had  flowed,  and  that 
it  stagnated  at  last  in  the  muddy  reservoir  of  the 
first  folio.1  In  plainer  terms,  that  the  vitiations 
of  a  careless  theatre  were  seconded  by  those  of  as 
ignorant  a  press.  The  integrity  of  dramas  thus 
prepared  for  the  world,  is  just  on  a  level  with  the 
innocence  of  females  nursed  in  a  camp  and  edu- 
cated in  a  bagnio. — As  often  therefore  as  we  are 
told,  that  by  admitting  corrections  warranted  by 

9  He  died  September  8th,  1797. 

1  It  will  perhaps  be  urged,  that  to  this  first  folio  we  are  in- 
debted for  the  only  copies  of  sixteen  or  seventeen  of  our  author's 
plays :  True  :  but  may  not  our  want  of  yet  earlier  and  less  cor- 
rupted editions  of  these  very  dramas  be  solely  attributed  to  the 
monopolizing  vigilance  of  its  editors,  Messieurs  Hemings  and 
Condell  ?  Finding  they  had  been  deprived  of  some  tragedies  and 
comedies  which,  when  opportunity  offered,  they  designed  to 
publish  for  their  own  emolument,  they  redoubled  their  solicitude 
to  withhold  the  rest,  and  were  but  too  successful  in  their  precau- 
tion. "  Thank  fortune  (says  the  original  putterforth  of  Troilus 
and  Cressida)  for  the  scape  it  hath  made  amongst  you ;  since  by 
the  grand  possessors'  wills,  I  believe,  you  should  have  pray'd  for 
it,  rather  than  beene  pray'd." — Had  quartos  of  Macbeth,  An- 
tony and  Cleopatra,  All's  tvell  that  ends  well,  &c.  been  sent 
into  the  world,  from  how  many  corruptions  might  the  text  of  all 
these  dramas  have  been  secured ! 


ADVERTISEMENT.  35 

common  sense  and  the  laws  of  the  metre,  we  have 
not  rigidly  adhered  to  the  text  of  Shakspeare,  we 
shall  entreat  our  opponents  to  exchange  that  phrase 
for  another  "  more  germane,"  and  say  instead  of 
it,  that  we  have  deviated  from  the  text  of  the 
publishers  of  single  plays  in  quarto,  or  their  suc- 
cessors, the  editors  of  the  first  folio  ;  that  we  have 
sometimes  followed  the  suggestions  of  a  Warbur- 
ton,  a  Johnson,  a  Farmer,  or  a  Tyrwhitt,  in  pre- 
ference to  the  decisions  of  a  Hemings  or  aCondell, 
notwithstanding  their  choice  of  readings  might  have 
been  influenced  by  associates  whose  high-sounding 
names  cannot  fail  to  enforce  respect,  viz.  William 
Ostler,  John  Shanke,  William  Sly,  and  Thomas 
Poope.2 

To  revive  the  anomalies,  barbarisms  and  blun- 
ders of  some  ancient  copies,  in  preference  to  the 
corrections  of  others  almost  equally  old,  is  likewise 
a  circumstance  by  no  means  honourable  to  our  au- 
thor, however  secure  respecting  ourselves.  For 
what  is  it,  under  pretence  of  restoration,  but  to 
use  him  as  he  has  used  the  Tinker  in  The  Taming 
of  a  Shrew, — to  re-clothe  him  in  his  pristine  rags? 
To  assemble  parallels  in  support  01  all  these  de- 
formities, is  no  insuperable  labour  ;  for  if  we  are 
permitted  to  avail  ourselves  of  every  typographical 
mistake,  and  every  provincial  vulgarism  and  of- 
fence against  established  grammar,  that  may  be 
met  with  in  the  coeval  productions  of  irregular 
humourists  and  ignorant  sectaries  and  buffoons, 
we  may  aver  that  every  casual  combination  of  syl- 
lables may  be  tortured  into  meaning,  and  every 
species  of  corruption  exemplified  by  correspond- 
ing depravities  of  language  j  but  not  of  such  lan- 

•  See  first  folio,  &c.  for  the  list  of  actors  in  our  author'* 
plays. 

D  2 


36  ADVERTISEMENT. 

guage  as  Shakspeare,  if  compared  with  himself 
where  he  is  perfect,  can  be  supposed  to  have  writ- 
ten. By  similar  reference  it  is  that  the  style  of 
many  an  ancient  building  has  been  characteris- 
tically restored.  The  members  of  architecture  left 
entire,  have  instructed  the  renovator  how  to  sup- 
ply the  loss  of  such  as  had  fallen  into  decay.  The 
poet,  therefore,  whose  dialogue  has  often,  during 
a  long  and  uninterrupted  series  of  lines,  no  other 
peculiarities  than  were  common  to  the  works  of 
his  most  celebrated  contemporaries,  and  whose 
general  ease  and  sweetness  of  versification  are 
hitherto  unrivalled,  ought  not  so  often  to  be  sus- 
pected of  having  produced  ungrammatical  non- 
sense, and  such  rough  and  defective  numbers  as 
would  disgrace  a  village  schoolboy  in  his  first  at- 
tempts at  English  poetry. — It  may  also  be  observed, 
that  our  author's  earliest  compositions,  his  Son- 
nets, &c.  are  wholly  free  from  metrical  imperfec- 
tions. 

The  truth  is,  that  from  one  extreme  we  have 
reached  another.  Our  incautious  predecessors, 
Rowe,  Pope,  Hanmer,  and  Warburton,  were  some- 
times justly  blamed  for  wanton  and  needless  de- 
viations from  ancient  copies ;  and  we  are  afraid 
that  censure  will  as  equitably  fall  on  some  of  us, 
for  a  revival  of  irregularities  which  have  no  reason- 
able sanction,  and  few  champions  but  such  as  are 
excited  by  a  fruitless  ambition  to  defend  certain 
posts  and  passes  that  had  been  supposed  untenable. 
The  "  wine  of  collation,"  indeed,  had  long  been 
"  drawn,"  and  little  beside  the  "  mere  lees  was 
left"  for  very  modern  editors  "  to  brag  of."  It 
should,  therefore,  be  remembered,  that  as  judg- 
ment, without  the  aid  of  collation,  might  have 
insufficient  materials  to  work  on,  so  collation,  di- 
vested of  judgment,  will   be  often   worse  than 


ADVERTISEMENT.  37 

thrown  away,  because  it  introduces  obscurity  in- 
stead of  light.  To  render  Shakspeare  less  intelli- 
gible by  the  recall  of  corrupt  phraseology,  is  not, 
in  our  opinion,  the  surest  way  to  extend  his  fame 
and  multiply  his  readers  ;  unless  (like  Curll  the 
bookseller,  when  the  Jews  spoke  Hebrew  to  him,) 
they  happen  to  have  most  faith  in  what  they  least 
understand.  Respecting  our  author,  therefore,  on 
some  occasions,  we  cannot  join  in  the  prayer  of 
Cordelia : — 


Restoration  hang 


"  Thy  medicine  on  his  lips  !" 

It  is  unlucky  for  him,  perhaps,  that  between  the 
interest  of  nis  readers  and  his  editors  a  material 
difference  should  subsist.  The  former  wish  to  meet 
with  as  few  difficulties  as  possible,  while  the  latter 
are  tempted  to  seek  them  out,  because  they  afford 
opportunities  for  explanatory  criticism. 

Omissions  in  our  author's  works  are  frequently 
suspected,  and  sometimes  not  without  sufficient 
reason.  Yet,  in  our  opinion,  they  have  suffered  a 
more  certain  injury  from  interpolation  ;  for  almost 
as  often  as  their  measure  is  deranged,  or  redun- 
dant, some  words,  alike  unnecessary  to  sense  and 
the  grammar  of  the  age,  may  be  discovered,  and, 
in  a  thousand  instances,  might  be  expunged,  with- 
out loss  of  a  single  idea  meant  to  be  expressed  ;  a 
liberty  which  we  have  sometimes  taken,  though  not 
(as  it  is  hoped)  without  constant  notice  of  it  to  the 
reader.  Enough  of  this,  however,  has  been  already 
attempted,  to  show  that  more  on  the  same  plan 
might  be  done  with  safety.3 — So  far  from  under- 

'  Sufficient  instances  of  measure  thus  rendered  defective,  and 
in  the  present  edition  unamended,  may  be  found  in  the  three  last 
Acts  of  Hamlet,  and  in  Othello.  The  length  of  this  prefatory 
advertisement  has  precluded  their  exemplification,  which  wa» 


SS  ADVERTISEMENT. 

standing  the  power  of  an  ellipsis,  we  may  venture 
to  affirm  that  the  very  name  of  this  figure  in  rhe- 
thorick  never  reached  the  ears  of  our  ancient 
editors.  Having  on  this  subject  the  support  of 
Dr.  Farmer's  acknowledged  judgment  and  experi- 
ence, we  shall  not  shrink  from  controversy  with 
those  who  maintain  a  different  opinion,  and  refuse 
to  acquiesce  in  modern  suggestions  if  opposed  to 
the  authority  of  quartos  and  folios,  consigned  to  us 
by  a  set  of  people  who  were  wholly  uninstructed  in 
the  common  forms  of  style,  orthography,  and  punc- 
tuation.— We  do  not  therefore  hesitate  to  affirm, 
that  a  blind  fidelity  to  the  eldest  printed  copies,  is 
on  some  occasions  a  confirmed  treason  against  the 
sense,  spirit,  and  versification  of  Shakspeare. 

All  these  circumstances  considered,  it  is  time, 
instead  of  a  timid  and  servile  adherence  to  ancient 
copies,  when  (offending  against  sense  and  metre) 
they  furnish  no  real  help,  that  a  future  editor,  well 
acquainted  with  the  phraseology  of  our  author's 
age,  should  be  at  liberty  to  restore  some  apparent 
meaning  to  his  corrupted  lines,  and  a  decent  flow 
to  his  obstructed  versification.  The  latter  (as 
already  has  been  observed)  may  be  frequently  ef- 
fected by  the  expulsion  of  useless  and  supernu- 
merary syllables,  and  an  occasional  supply  of  such 
as  might  fortuitously  have  been  omitted,  notwith- 
standing the  declaration  of  Hemings  and  Condell, 
whose  fraudulent  preface  asserts  that  they  have 
published  our  author's  plays  "  as  absolute  in  their 
numbers  as  he  conceived  them."  Till  somewhat 
resembling  the  process  above  suggested  be  au- 
thorized, the  publick  will  ask  in  vain  for  a  com- 

here  meant  to  have  been  given. — We  wish,  however,  to  impress 
the  foregoing  circumstance  on  the  memory  of  the  judicious 
reader. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  39 

modious  and  pleasant  text  of  Shakspeare.  No- 
thing will  be  lost  to  the  world  on  account  of  the 
measure  recommended,  there  being  folios  and 
quartos  enough  remaining  for  the  use  of  antiqua- 
rian or  critical  travellers,  to  whom  a  jolt  over  a 
rugged  pavement  may  be  more  delectable  than  an 
easy  passage  over  a  smooth  one,  though  they  both 
conduct  to  the  same  object. 

To  a  reader  unconversant  with  the  licenses  of  a 
theatre,  the  charge  of  more  material  interpolation 
than  that  of  mere  syllables,  will  appear  to  want  sup- 

f)ortj  and  yet  whole  lines  and  passages  in  the  fol- 
owing  plays  incur  a  very  just  suspicion  of  having 
originated  from  this  practice,  which  continues  even 
in  the  present  improved  state  of  our  dramatick 
arrangements  ;  for  the  propensity  of  modern  per- 
formers to  alter  words,  and  occasionally  introduce 
ideas  incongruous  with  their  author's  plan,  will  not 
always  escape  detection.  In  such  vagaries  our 
comedians  have  been  much  too  frequently  in- 
dulged ;  but  to  the  injudicious  tragical  interpo- 
lator no  degree  of  favour  should  be  shown,  not  even 
to  a  late  Matilda,  who,  in  Mr.  Home's  Douglas 
thought  fit  to  change  the  obscure  intimation  with 
which  her  part  should  have  concluded — 


such  a  son 


"  And  such  a  husband,  make  a  woman  bold.~— 

into  a  plain  avowal,  that 


such  a  son, 


11  And  such  a  husband,  drive  me  to  myjate." 

Here  we  perceive  that  Fate,  the  old  post-horse  of 
tragedy,  nas  been  saddled  to  expedite  intelligence 
which  was  meant  to  be  delayed  till  the  necessary 
moment   of  its   disclosure.       Nay,   further:    the 


40  ADVERTISEMENT. 

prompter's  book  being  thus  corrupted,  on  the  first 
night  of  the  revival  01  this  beautiful  and  interest- 
ing play  at  Drury  Lane,  the  same  spurious  non- 
sense was  heard  from  the  lips  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  lips, 
whose  matchless  powers  should  be  sacred  only  to 
the  task  of  animating  the  purest  strains  of  drama- 
tick  poetry. — Many  other  instances  of  the  same 
presumption  might  have  been  subjoined,  had  they 
not  been  withheld  through  tenderness  to  per- 
formers now  upon  the  stage. — Similar  interpola- 
tions, however,  in  the  text  of  Shakspeare,  can 
only  be  suspected,  and  therefore  must  remain  un- 
expelled. 

To  other  defects  of  our  late  editions  may  be  sub- 
joined, as  not  the  least  notorious,  an  exuberance  of 
comment.  Our  situation  has  not  unaptlyresembled 
that  of  the  fray  in  the  first  scene  of  Borneo  and 
Juliet: 

"  While  we  were  interchanging  thrusts  and  blows, 
"  Came  more  and  more,  and  fought  on  part  and  part:" 

till,  as  Hamlet  has  observed,  we  are  contending 


for  a  plot 


"  Whereon  the  numbers  cannot  try  the  cause." 

Indulgence  to  the  remarks  of  others,  as  well  as 
partiality  to  our  own ;  an  ambition  in  each  little 
Hercules  to  set  up  pillars,  ascertaining  how  far  he 
had  travelled  through  the  dreary  wilds  of  black 
letter ;  and  perhaps  a  reluctance  or  inability  to  de- 
cide between  contradictory  sentiments,  have  also 
occasioned  the  appearance  of  more  annotations 
than  were  absolutely  wanted,  unless  it  be  thought 
requisite  that  our  author,  like  a  Dauphin  Classick, 
should  be  reduced  to  marginal  prose  for  the  use  of 
children  ;  that  all  his  various  readings  (assembled 
by  Mr.  Capell)  should  be  enumerated,  the  genealo- 


ADVERTISEMENT.  41 

gies  of  all  his  real  personages  deduced ;  and  that 
as  many  of  his  plays  as  are  founded  on  Roman  or 
British  history,  should  be  attended  by  complete 
transcripts  from  their  originals  in  Sir  Thomas 
North's  Plutarch^  or  the  Chronicles  of  Hall  and 
Holinshed. — These  faults,  indeed, — si  quid  prodest 
delicto,  fateri, — within  half  a  century,  (when  the 
present  race  of  voluminous  criticks  is  extinct)  can- 
not fail  to  be  remedied  by  a  judicious  and  frugal 
selection  from  the  labours  of  us  all.  Nor  is  such 
an  event  to  be  deprecated  even  by  ourselves;  since 
we  may  be  certain  that  some  ivy  of  each  individual's 
growth  will  still  adhere  to  the  parent  oak,  though 
not  enough,  as  at  present,  to  "  hide  the  princely 
trunk,  and  suck  the  verdure  out  of  it."3 — It  may 
be  feared  too,  should  we  persist  in  similar  accumu- 
lations of  extraneous  matter,  that  the  readers  will 
at  length  be  frighted  away  from  Shakspeare,  as  the 
soldiers  of  Cato  deserted  their  comrade  when  he 
became  bloated  with  poison — crescens  fug£re  cada- 
ver. It  is  our  opinion,  in  short,  that  every  one  who 
opens  the  page  of  an  ancient  English  writer,  should 
bring  with  him  some  knowledge ;  and  yet  he  by 
whom  a  thousand  minutiae  remain  to  be  learned, 
needs  not  to  close  our  author's  volume  in  despair, 
for  his  spirit  and  general  drift  are  always  obvious, 
though  his  language  and  allusions  are  occasionally 
obscure. 

We  may  subjoin  (alluding  to  our  own  practice 
as  well  as  that  of  others)  that  they  whose  remarks 
are  longest,  and  who  seek  the  most  frequent  op- 
portunities of  introducing  their  names  at  the  bot- 
tom of  our  author's  pages,  are  not,  on  that  account, 
the  most  estimable  criticks.  The  art  of  writing 
notes,  as  Dr.  Johnson  has  pleasantly  observed  in 

J  Tempest. 


42  ADVERTISEMENT. 

his  preface,  is  not  of  difficult  attainment.4  Addi- 
tional hundreds  might  therefore  be  supplied  ;  for 
as  often  as  a  various  reading,  whether  serviceable 
or  not,  is  to  be  found,  the  discoverer  can  bestow 
an  immediate  reward  on  his  own  industry,  by  a 
display  of  his  favourite  signature.  The  same  ad- 
vantage may  be  gained  by  opportunities  of  appro- 
priating to  ourselves  what  was  originally  said  by 
another  person,  and  in  another  place. 

Though  our  adoptions  have  been  slightly  men- 
tioned already,  our  fourth  impression  of  the  Plays 
of  Shakspeare  must  not  issue  into  the  world  with- 
out particular  and  ample  acknowledgements  of  the 
benefit  it  has  derived  from  the  labours  of  the  last 
editor,  whose  attention,  diligence,  and  spirit  of  en- 
quiry, have  very  far  exceeded  those  of  the  whole 
united  phalanx  of  his  predecessors. — His  additions 
to  our  author's  Life,  his  attempt  to  ascertain  the 
Order  in  which  his  Plays  were  written,  together 
with  his  account  of  our  ancient  Stage,  &c.  are 
here  re-published;  and  every  reader  will  concur 
in  wishing  that  a  gentleman  who  has  produced 
such  intelligent  combinations  from  very  few  mate- 
rials, had  fortunately  been  possessed  of  more. 

Of  his  notes  on  particular  passages  a  great  ma- 
jority is  here  adopted.  True  it  is,  that  on  some 
points  we  fundamentally  disagree ;  for  instance, 
concerning  his  metamorphosis  of  monosyllables 
(like  burn,  sworn,  worn,  here  and  there,  arms,  and 
charms,)  into  dissyllables ;  his  contraction  of  dis- 
syllables (like  neither,  rather,  reason,  lover,  &c.) 
into  monosyllables ;  and  his  sentiments  respecting 
the  worth  of  the  variations  supplied  by  the  second 
folio. — On  the  first  of  these  contested  matters 
we  commit  ourselves  to  the  publick  ear ;  on  the 

4  See  also  Addison's  Spectator,  No.  470. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  43 

second  we  must  awhile  solicit  the  reader's  at- 
tention. 

The  following  conjectural  account  of  the  publi- 
cation of  this  second  folio  (about  which  no  cer- 
tainty can  be  obtained)  perhaps  is  not  very  remote 
from  truth. 

When  the  predecessor  of  it  appeared,  some  in- 
telligent friend  or  admirer  of  Shakspeare  might 
have  observed  its  defects,  and  corrected  many  of 
them  in  its  margin,  from  early  manuscripts,  or 
authentick  information. 

That  such  manuscripts  should  have  remained, 
can  excite  no  surprize.  The  good  fortune  that, 
till  this  present  hour,  has  preserved  the  Chester 
and  Coventry  Mysteries ,  Tancred  and  Gismund6  as 
originally  written,  the  ancient  play  of  Timon,  the 
Witch  oi  Middleton,  with  several  older  as  well  as 
coeval  dramas  (exclusive  of  those  in  the  Marquis 
of  Lansdowne's  library)  might  surely  have  be- 
friended some  of  our  author's  copies  in  1632,  only 
sixteen  years  after  his  death. 

That  oral  information  concerning  his  works  was 
still  accessible,  may  with  similar  probability  be 
inferred  ;  as  some  of  the  original  and  most  know- 
ing performers  in  his  different  pieces  were  then 
alive  (Lowin  and  Taylor,  for  instance);  and  it 
must  be  certain,  that  on  the  stage  they  never  ut- 
tered such  mutilated  lines  and  unintelligible  non- 
sense as  was  afterwards  incorporated  with  their 
respective  parts,  in  both  the  first  quarto  and  folio 
editions. 

The  folio  therefore  of  1623,  corrected  from  one 

*  See  Mr.  Holt  White's  note  on  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Vol.  XX. 
p.  97,  n.  5. 

•  i.  e.  as  acted  before  Queen  Elizabeth  in  1568.  SeeWarton, 
Vol.  III.  p.  376,  n.  g. 


44  ADVERTISEMENT. 

or  both  the  authorities  above  mentioned,  we  con- 
ceive to  have  been  the  basis  of  its  successor  in 
163  . 

At  the  same  time,  however,  a  fresh  and  abund- 
ant series  of  errors  and  omissions  was  created  in 
the  text  of  our  author ;  the  natural  and  certain 
consequence  of  every  re-impression  of  a  work 
which  is  not  overseen  by  other  eyes  than  those  of 
its  printer. 

Nor  is  it  at  all  improbable  that  the  person  who 
furnished  the  revision  of  the  first  folio,  wrote  a 
very  obscure  hand,  and  was  much  cramped  for 
room,  as  the  margin  of  this  book  is  always  narrow. 
Such  being  the  case,  he  might  often  have  been 
compelled  to  deal  in  abbreviations,  which  were 
sometimes  imperfectly  deciphered,  and  sometimes 
wholly  misunderstood. 

Mr.  Malone,  indeed,  frequently  points  his  artil- 
lery at  a  personage  whom  we  cannot  help  regard- 
ing as  a  phantom  ;  we  mean  the  Editor  of  the  se- 
cond folio ;  for  perhaps  no  such  literary  agent  as 
an  editor  of  a  poetical  work,  unaccompanied  by 
comments,  was  at  that  period  to  be  found.  This 
office,  if  any  where,  was  vested  in  the  printer,  who 
transferred  it  to  his  compositors ;  and  these  wor- 
thies discharged  their  part  of  the  trust  with  a  pro- 
portionate mixture  of  ignorance  and  inattention. 
We  do  not  wish  to  soften  our  expression ;  for  some 
plays,  like  The  Misfortunes  of  Arthur,  and  many 
books  of  superior  consequence,  like  Fox's  Martyrs, 
and  the  second  edition  of  the  Chronicles  of  Holin- 
shed,  &c.  were  carefully  prepared  for  the  publick 
eye  by  their  immediate  authors,  or  substitutes  qua- 
lified for  their  undertaking.7     But  about  the  year 

7  Abraham  Fleming  supervised,  corrected,  and  enlarged  the 
second  edition  of  Holinshed's  Chronicle,  in  1585. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  43 

1600,  the  era  of  total  incorrectness  commenced, 
and  works  of  almost  all  kinds  appeared  with  the 
disadvantage  of  more  than  their  natural  and  in- 
herent imperfections. 

Such  too,  in  these  more  enlightened  days,  when 
few  compositors  are  unskilled  in  orthography  and 
punctuation,  would  be  the  event,  were  complicated 
works  of  fancy  submitted  to  no  other  superintend- 
ance  than  their  own.  More  attentive  and  judicious 
artists  than  were  employed  on  our  present  edition 
of  Shakspeare,  are,  I  believe,  no  where  to  be 
found ;  and  yet  had  their  proofs  escaped  correc- 
tion from  an  editor,  the  text  of  our  author  in  many 
places  would  have  been  materially  changed.  And 
as  all  these  changes  would  have  originated  from 
attention  for  a  moment  relaxed,  interrupted  me- 
mory, a  too  hasty  glance  at  the  page  before  them, 
and  other  incidental  causes,  they  could  not  have 
been  recommended  in  preference  to  the  variations 
of  the  second  folio,  which  in  several  instances  have 
been  justly  reprobated  by  the  last  editor  of  Shak- 
speare. W  hat  errors  then  might  not  have  been  ex- 
pected, when  compositors  were  wholly  unlettered 
and  careless,  and  a  corrector  of  the  press  an  officer 
unknown  ?  To  him  who  is  inclined  to  dispute  our 
grounds  for  this  last  assertion,  we  would  recom- 
mend a  perusal  of  the  errata  at  the  ends  of  multi- 
tudes of  our  ancient  publications,  where  the  read- 
er's indulgence  is  entreated  for  "  faults  escaped  on 
account  of  the  author's  distance  from  the  press;" 
faults,  indeed,  which  could  not  have  occurred,  had 
every  printing-office,  as  at  present,  been  furnished 
with  a  regular  and  literary  superintendant  of  its 
productions. — How  then  can  it  be  expected  that 
printers  who  were  often  found  unequal  to  the  task 
of  setting  forth  even  a  plain  prose  narrative,  con- 
sisting of  a  few  sheets,  without  blunders  innumer- 


46  ADVERTISEMENT. 

able,  should  have  done  justice  to  a  folio  volume  of 
dramatick  dialogues  in  metre,  which  required  a  so 
much  greater  degree  of  accuracy  ? 

But  the  worth  of  our  contested  volume  also 
seems  to  be  questioned,  because  the  authority  on 
which  even  such  changes  in  it  as  are  allowed  to  be 
judicious,  is  unknown.  But  if  weight  were  granted 
to  this  argument,  what  support  could  be  found  for 
ancient  Greek  and  Roman  MSS.  of  various  de- 
scriptions ?  The  names  of  their  transcribers  are 
alike  undiscovered ;  and  yet  their  authority,  when 
the  readings  they  present  are  valuable,  will  seldom 
fail  to  be  admitted. 

Nay,  further : — it  is  on  all  hands  allowed,  that 
what  we  style  a  younger  and  inferior  MS.  will  oc- 
casionally correct  the  mistakes  and  supply  the  de- 
ficiencies of  one  of  better  note,  and  higher  anti- 
quity.— Why,  therefore,  should  not  a  book  printed 
in  1632  be  allowed  the  merit  of  equal  services  to 
a  predecessor  in  1623  ? 

Such  also,  let  us  add,  were  the  sentiments  of  a 
gentleman  whose  name  we  cannot  repeat  without 
a  sigh,  which  those  who  were  acquainted  with  his 
value,  will  not  suspect  of  insincerity :  we  mean  our 
late  excellent  friend,  Mr.  Tyrwhitt.  In  his  library 
was  this  second  folio  of  our  author's  plays.  He  al- 
ways stood  forward  as  a  determined  advocate  for 
its  authority,  on  which,  we  believe,  more  than  one 
of  his  emendations  were  formed.  At  least,  we  are 
certain  that  he  never  attempted  any,  before  he  had 
consulted  it. 

He  was  once,  indeed,  offered  a  large  fragment 
of  the  first  folio ;  but  in  a  few  days  he  returned  it, 
with  an  assurance  that  he  did  not  perceive  any 
decided  superiority  it  could  boast  over  its  imme- 
diate successor,  as  the  metre,  imperfect  in  the 


ADVERTISEMENT.  47 

elder,  was  often  restored  to  regularity  in  the  junior 
impression. 

Mr.  Malone,  however,  in  his  Letter  to  Dr.  Far- 
mer, has  styled  these  necessary  corrections  such 
"  as  could  not  escape  a  person  of  the  most  ordi- 
nary capacity,  who  had  been  one  month  convers- 
ant with  a  printing-house ;"  a  description  mortify- 
ing enough  to  the  present  editors,  who,  after  an 
acquaintance  of  many  years  with  typographical 
mysteries,  would  be  loath  to  weigh  their  own 
amendments  against  those  which  this  second  folio, 
with  all  its  blunders,  has  displayed. 

The  same  gentleman  also  (see  his  Preface,  p.  410) 
speaks  with  some  confidence  of  having  proved  his 
assertions  relative  to  the  worthlessness  of  this  book. 
But  how  are  these  assertions  proved  ?  By  exposing 
its  errors  (some  of  which  nevertheless  are  of  a  very 
questionable  shape)  and  by  observing  a  careful 
silence  about  its  deserts.8  1  he  latter  surely  should 
have  been  stated  as  well  as  the  former.  Otherwise, 
this  proof  will  resemble  the  "  ill-roasted  egg"  in 
As  you  like  it,  which  was  done  only  "  on  one  side." 
— If,  in  the  mean  time,  some  critical  arithmetician 
can  be  found,  who  will  impartially  and  intelli- 
gently ascertain  by  way  of  Dr  and  Cr  the  faults 
and  merits  of  this  book,  and  thereby  prove  the 
former  to  have  been  many,  and  the  latter  scarce 
any  at  all,  we  will  most  openly  acknowledge  our 
misapprehension,  and  subscribe  (a  circumstance  of 


•  Thus  (as  one  instance  out  of  several  that  might  be  produced) 
when  Mr.  Malone,  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  very  ju- 
diciously restores  the  uncommon  word — ging,  and  supports  it  by 
instances  from  The  New  Inn  and  The  Alchemist,  he  forbears  to 
mention  that  such  also  is  the  reading  of  the  second,  though  not 
of  the  first  folio.     See  Vol.V.  p.  lOo,  n.  5. 


48  ADVERTISEMENT. 

which  we  need  not  be  ashamed)  to  the  superior 
sagacity  and  judgment  of  Mr.  Malone. 

To  conclude,  though  we  are  far  from  asserting 
that  this  republication,  generally  considered,  is 
preferable  to  its  original,  we  must  still  regard  it  as 
a  valuable  supplement  to  that  work ;  and  no 
stronger  plea  in  its  favour  can  be  advanced,  than 
the  frequent  use  made  of  it  by  Mr.  Malone.  The 
numerous  corrections  from  it  admitted  by  that 
gentleman  into  his  text,9  and  pointed  out  in  his 


9  Amounting  to  (as  we  are  informed  by  a  very  accurate  com- 
positor who  undertook  to  count  them)  186. 

Instances  wherein  Mr.  Malone  has  admitted  the  Corrections 
of  the  Second  Folio. 

Tempest 4 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona 10 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor          ......  5 

Measure  for  Measure      .         .         .         .         .         .         .15 

Comedy  of  Errors             .         . 11 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing 0 

Love's  Labour's  Lost       .......  13 

Midsummer-Nights  Dream      .         «         .         .         .  4 

Merchant  of  Venice         .          ......  2 

As  you  like  it           ........  15 

Taming  of  the  Shrew       .         .         .         .         .         .         .16 

Airs  well  that  ends  well                   •  .         .         .         .         .  Q 

Twelfth-Night         ........  3 

Winter's  Tale 8 

Macbeth Q 

King  John              ........  3 

King  Richard  II.            .         .         .         .         .         .         .  •  \ 

King  Henry  IV.  Part  I.         ......  \ 

~ //. 1 

King  Henry  V.       ........  J 

King  Henry  VI.  Part  I. 6 

//. 6 

— ///. 2 

King  Richard  I  11.^        .       ..         ...     ■  .         .■'      .  -       .  0 


ADVERTISEMENT.  49 

notes,  will,  in  our  judgment,  contribute  to  its  eulo- 
gium ;  at  least  cannot  fail  to  rescue  it  from  his 
prefatory  imputations  of — "  being  of  no  value 
whatever,"  and  afterwards  of — "  not  being  worth 
— three  shillings."1  See  Mr.  Malone's  Preface, 
and  List  of  Editions  of  Shakspeare. 

Our  readers,  it  is  hoped,  will  so  far  honour  us  as 
to  observe,  that  the  foregoing  opinions  were  not 
suggested  and  defended  through  an  ambitious  spi- 
rit of  contradiction.  Mr.  Malone's  Preface,  in- 
deed, will  absolve  us  from  that  censure ;  for  he 
allows  them  to  be  of  a  date  previous  to  his  own 
edition.     He,  therefore,  on  this  subject,  is  the 

King  Henri/  VIII. 6 

Coriolanus  .  .......  O 

Julius  Ccesar  . 2 

Antony  and  Cleopatra 7 

Timon  of  Athens  .......  6 

Troilus  and  Cressida        .......  O 

Cymbeline  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .10 

King  Lear  ........  3 

Romeo  and  Juliet    ........  4 

Hamlet 3 

Othello O 

Total  .  1S6 
Plymsell. 
.  'This  doctrine,  however,  appears  to  have  made  few  prosel  vtes : 
at  least,  some  late  catalogues  of  our  good  friends  the  booksellers, 
have  expressed  their  dissent  from  it  in  terms  of  uncommon  force. 
I  must  add,  that  on  the  34th  day  of  the  auction  of  the  late  Dr. 
Farmer's  library,  this  proscribed  volume  was  sold  for  three 
guineas  ;  and  that  in  the  sale  of  Mr.  Allen's  library,  April  the 
15th,  1799,  at  Leigh  and  Sotheby's,  York  Street,  Covent  Garden, 
the  four  folio  editions  of  our  author's  plays  were  disposed  of  at 
the  following  prices:  the  first  folio  £10  19  0,  the  second 
5  10  0,  the  third  5  15  6,  the  fourth  3  13  6.— Since  the  time 
of  the  ubove-mentioned  sales  the  folio  editions  have  increased 
in  value,  and  at  the  sale  of  the  Duke  of  Roxburgh's  library, 
June  6,  1812,  produced  the  following  prices ;  the  first  ;£l00  0  O, 
the  second  15  0  0,  the  third  35  O  0,  the  fourth  6  6  0. 

Harris. 

VOL.  I.  E 


50  ADVERTISEMENT. 

assailant,  and  not  the  conductors  of  the  present 
republication. 

But  though,  in  the  course  of  succeeding  stric- 
tures, several  other  of  Mr.  Mai  one's  positions  may 
be  likewise  controverted,  some  with  seriousness, 
and  some  with  levity,  (for  our  discussions  are  not 
of  quite  so  solemn  a  turn  as  those  which  involve  the 
interests  of  our  country,)  we  feel  an  undissembled 
pleasure  in  avowing,  that  his  remarks  are  at  once 
so  numerous  and  correct,  that  when  criticism  "  has 
done  its  worst,"  their  merit  but  in  a  small  degree 
can  be  affected.  We  are  confident,  however,  that 
he  himself  will  hereafter  join  with  us  in  consider- 
ing no  small  proportion  of  our  contested  readings 
as  a  mere  game  at  literary  push-pin ;  and  that  if 
Shakspeare  looks  down  upon  our  petty  squabbles 
over  his  mangled  scenes,  it  must  be  with  feelings 
similar  to  those  of  Lucan's  hero : 

•     ridetque  sui  ludibria  trunci. 

In  the  Preface  of  Mr.  Malone,  indeed,  a  direct 
censure  has  been  levelled  at  incorrectness  in  the 
text  of  the  edition  1778.  The  justice  of  the  impu- 
tation is  unequivocally  allowed ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  might  not  this  acknowledgement  be  second* 
ed  by  somewhat  like  a  retort  ?  For  is  it  certain  that 
the  collations,  &c.  of  1790  are  wholly  secure  from 
similar  charges  ?  Are  they  accompanied  by  no  un- 
authorized readings,  no  omission  of  words,  and 
transpositions?  Through  all  the  plays,  and  espe- 
cially those  of  which  there  is  only  a  single  copy, 
they  have  been  with  some  diligence  retraced,  and 
the  frailties  of  their  collator,  such  as  they  are,  have 
been  ascertained.  They  shall  not,  however,  be 
ostentatiously  pointed  out,  and  for  this  only  rea- 
son -.—/That  as  they  decrease  but  little,  if  at  all,  the 


ADVERTISEMENT.  51 

vigour  of  Shakspeare,  the  critick  who  in  general 
has  performed  with  accuracy  one  of  the  heaviest  of 
literary  tasks,  ought  not  to  be  molested  by  a  dis- 
play of  petty  faults,  which  might  have  eluded  the 
most  vigilant  faculties  of  sight  and  hearing  that 
were  ever  placed  as  spies  over  the  labours  of  each 
other.  They  are  not  even  mentioned  here  as  a  co- 
vert mode  of  attack,  or  as  a  "  note  of  preparation" 
for  future  hostilities.  The  office  01  "  devising 
brave  punishments"  for  faithless  editors,  is  there- 
fore strenuously  declined,  even  though  their  guilt 
should  equal  that  of  one  of  their  number,  (Mr. 
Steevens,)  who  stands  convicted  of  having  given 
winds  instead  of  wind,  stables  instead  of  stable,  ses- 
sions instead  of  session,  sins  instead  of  sin,  and 
(we  shudder  while  we  recite  the  accusation)  my 
instead  of  mine.2 


Such  small  deer 


"  Have  been  our  food  for  many  a  year ;" 

so  long,  in  truth,  that  any  further  pursuit  of  them 
is  here  renounced,  together  with  all  triumphs 
founded  on  the  detection  of  harmless  synonymous 
particles  that  accidentally  may  have  deserted  their 
proper  places  and  wandered  into  others,  without 
injury  to  Shakspeare. — A  few  chipped  or  disjointed 
stones  will  not  impair  the  shape  or  endanger  the 
stability  of  a  pyramid.  We  are  far  from  wisning  to 
depreciate  exactness,  yet  cannot  persuade  ourselves 
but  that  a  single  lucky  conjecture  or  illustration, 
should  outweigh  a  thousand  spurious  haths  deposed 
in  favour  of  legitimate  has's,  and  the  like  insignifi- 
cant recoveries,  which  may  not  too  degradmgly 

*  See  Mr.  Malone'a  Preface. 

£  2 


52  ADVERTISEMENT. 

be  termed — the  haberdashery  of  criticism ;  that 
"  stand  in  number,  though  in  reckoning  none;" 
and  are  as  unimportant  to  the  poet's  fame, 

"  As  is  the  morn-dew  on  the  myrtle-leaf 
M  To  his  grand  sea." 

We  shall  venture  also  to  assert,  that,  on  a  minute 
scrutiny,  every  editor,  in  his  turn,  may  be  charged 
with  omission  of  some  preferable  reading;  so  that 
he  who  drags  his  predecessor  to  justice  on  this 
score,  will  have  good  luck  if  he  escapes  ungalled 
by  recrimination. 

If  somewhat,  therefore,  in  the  succeeding  vo- 
lumes has  been  added  to  the  correction  and  illus- 
tration of  our  author,  the  purpose  of  his  present 
editors  is  completely  answered.  On  any  thing  like 
perfection  in  their  labours  they  do  not  presume, 
being  too  well  convinced  that,  in  defiance  of  their 
best  efforts,  their  own  incapacity,  and  that  of  the 
original  quarto  and  folio-mongers,  have  still  left 
sufficient  work  for  a  race  of  commentators  who  are 
yet  unborn.  Nos,  (says  Tully,  in  the  second  Book 
of  his  Tusculan  Questions,)  qui  sequimur  probabilia, 
nee  ultra  quam  id  quod  verisimile  occurrerit,  pro- 
gredi  possumus;  et  refellere  sine  pertinacia,  et  refelli 
sine  iracundia,  parati  sumus. 

Be  it  remembered  also,  that  the  assistants  and 
adversaries  of  editors,  enjoy  one  material  advantage 
over  editors  themselves.  They  are  at  liberty  to 
select  their  objects  of  remark : 


— — — — — —  et  quce 

Desperant  tractata  nitescere  posse,  relinquunt. 

The  fate  of  the  editor  in  form  is  less  propitious. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  53 

He  is  expected  to  combat  every  difficulty  from 
which  his  auxiliaries  and  opponents  could  secure 
an  honourable  retreat.  It  should  not,  therefore, 
be  wondered  at,  if  some  of  his  enterprizes  are  un- 
successful. 

Though  the  foregoing  Advertisement  has  run 
out  into  an  unpremeditated  length,  one  circum- 
stance remains  to  be  mentioned. — The  form  and 
substance  of  the  commentary  attending  this  repub- 
lication having  been  materially  changed  and  en- 
larged since  it  first  appeared,  in  compliance  with 
ungrateful  custom  the  name  of  its  original  editor 
might  have  been  withdrawn :  but  Mr.  Steevens 
could  not  prevail  on  himself  to  forego  an  additional 
opportunity  of  recording  in  a  title-page  that  he  had 
once  the  honour  of  being  united  in  a  task  of  lite- 
rature with  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson.  This  is  a  dis- 
tinction which  malevolence  cannot  obscure,  nor 
flattery  transfer  to  any  other  candidate  for  publick 
favour. 


It  may  possibly  be  expected,  that  a  list  of  Errata 
should  attend  so  voluminous  a  work  as  this,  or  that 
cancels  should  apologize  for  its  more  material  in- 
accuracies. Neither  of  these  measures,  however, 
has  in  the  present  instance  been  adopted,  and  for 
reasons  now  submitted  to  the  publick. 

In  regard  to  errata,  it  has  been  customary  with 
not  a  few  authors  to  acknowledge  small  mistakes, 


54  ADVERTISEMENT. 

that  they  might  escape  the  suspicion  of  greater,1 
or  perhaps  to  intimate  that  no  greater  could  be  de- 
tected. JBoth  little  and  great  (and  doubtless  there 
may  be  the  usual  proportion  of  both)  are  here  ex- 
posed (with  very  few  exceptions)  to  the  candour 
and  perspicacity  of  the  reader,  who  needs  not  to 
be  told  that  in  fifteen  volumes  octavo,  of  intricate 
and  variegated  printing,  gone  through  in  the  space 
of  about  twenty  months,  the  most  vigilant  eyes 
must  occasionally  have  been  overwatched,  and  the 
readiest  knowledge  intercepted.  The  sight  of  the 
editors,  indeed,  was  too  much  fatigued  to  encou- 
rage their  engagement  in  so  laborious  a  revision  j 
and  they  are  likewise  convinced  that  substitutes 
are  not  always  qualified  for  their  task ;  but  instead 
of  pointing  out  real  mistakes,  would  have  supposed 
the  existence  of  such  as  were  merely  founded  on 
their  own  want  of  acquaintance  with  the  peculiari- 
ties of  ancient  spelling  and  language ;  for  even 
modern  poetry  has  sometimes  been  in  danger  from 
the  chances  of  their  superintendance.  He  whose 
business  it  is  to  offer  this  unusual  apology,  very 
well  remembers  to  have  been  sitting  with  Dr.  John- 
son, when  an  agent  from  a  neighbouring  press 
brought  in  the  proof  sheet  of  a  republication,  re- 
questing to  know  whether  a  particular  word  in  it 
was  not  corrupted.  "  So  far  from  it,  Sir,  (replied 
the  Doctor,  with  some  harshness,)  that  the  word 
you  suspect  and  would  displace,  is  conspicuously 
beautiful  where  it  stands,  and  is  the  only  one  that 
could  have  done  the  duty  expected  from  it  by 
Mr.  Pope." 

*  " the  hospitable  door 

"  Expos'd  a  matron,  to  avoid  worse  rape." 

Paradise  Lost,  B.  I.  v.  505. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


55 


As  for  cancels,  it  is  in  the  power  of  every  care- 
less binder  to  defeat  their  purpose;  for  they  are 
so  seldom  lodged  with  uniformity  in  their  proper 
places,  that  they  as  often  serve  to  render  copies 
imperfect,  as  to  screen  an  author  from  the  charge 
of  ignorance  or  inattention.  The  leaf  appropriated 
to  one  volume,  is  sometimes  shuffled  into  the  cor- 
responding page  of  another ;  and  sometimes  the 
faulty  leaf  is  withdrawn,  and  no  other  substituted 
in  its  room.  These  circumstances  might  be  exem- 
plified ;  but  the  subject  is  scarcely  of  consequence 
enough  to  be  more  than  generally  stated  to  the 
reader,  whose  indulgence  is  again  solicited  on  ac- 
count of  blemishes  which  in  the  course  of  an  un- 
dertaking like  this  are  unavoidable,  and  could  not, 
at  its  conclusion,  have  been  remedied  but  by  the 
hazard  of  more  extensive  mischief; — an  indulg- 
ence, indeed,  that  will  more  readily  be  granted,  and 
especially  for  the  sake  of  the  compositors,  when  it 
is  understood,  that,  on  an  average,  every  page  of 
the  present  work,  including  spaces,  quadrats, 
points,  and  letters,  is  (to  speak  technically)  com- 
posed of  2680  distinct  pieces  of  metal.4 


Number  of  letters,  &c.  in  a  page  of  Shakspeare,  1/93. 


TEXT. 

The  average  number  in  each 
line  (including  letters,  points, 
spaces,  &c.)  is  47  ;  the  num- 
ber of  lines  in  a  page — 37. 

47 

37 

329 
141 


1739  in  a  page. 


NOTES. 

The  average  number  in  each 
line(including  letters,  points, 
spaces,  &c. )  is  67  ;  the  num- 
ber of  lines  in  a  page — lj. 
67 
47 

208 


3 1 4[)  in  a  page. 


From  this  calculation  it  is  clear,  that  a  common  page,  ad- 
mitting it  to  consist  of  1-3(1  text,  and  *J-3ds  notes,  contains 


SG  ADVERTISEMENT. 

As  was  formerly  therefore  observed,  he  who 
waited  till  the  river  should  run  dry,  did  not  act 
with  less  reason  than  the  editors  would  do,  who 
should  suspend  a  voluminous  and  complicated  pub- 
lication, in  the  vain  hope  of  rendering  it  absolutely 
free  from  literary  and  typographical  errors. 

about  2680  distinct  pieces  of  metal ;  which  multiplied  by  16, 
the  number  of  pages  in  a  sheet,  will  amount  to  42,880 — the 
misplacing  of  any  one  of  which  would  inevitably  cause  a  blunder, 

Plymsell. 


SOME  ACCOUNT 

or  THE 

LIFE 

OF 

WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE. 

WRITTEN    BY    MR.  ROWE. 


IT  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  respect  due  to  the  me- 
mory of  excellent  men,  especially  of  those  whom 
their  wit  ancTlearning  have  made  famous,  to  de- 
liver some  account  of  themselves,  as  well  as  their 
works,  to  posterity.  For  this  reason,  how  fond  do 
we  see  some  people  of  discovering  any  little  per- 
sonal story  of  the  great  men  of  antiquity!  tneir 
families,  the  common  accidents  of  their  lives,  and 
even  their  shape,  make,  and  features,  have  been 
the  subject  of  critical  inquiries.  How  trifling  so- 
ever this  curiosity  may  seem  to  be,  it  is  certainly 
very  natural ;  and  we  are  hardly  satisfied  with  an 
account  of  any  remarkable  person,  till  we  have 
heard  him  described  even  to  the  very  clothes  he 
wears.  As  for  what  relates  to  men  of  letters,  the 
knowledge  of  an  author  may  sometimes  conduce 
to  the  better  understanding  his  book  ;  and  though 
the  works  of  Mr.  Shakspeare  may  seem  to  many 
not  to  want  a  comment,  yet  I  fancy  some  little  ac- 


58    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

count  of  the  man  himself  may  not  be  thought  im- 
proper to  go  along  with  them. 

He  was  the  son  of  Mr.  John  Shakspeare,  and  was 
born  at  Stratford-upon-Avon,  in  Warwickshire,  in 
April,  1 564.  His  family,  as  appears  by  the  register 
and  publick  writings  relating  to  that  town,  were  of 
good  figure  and  fashion  there,  and  are  mentioned 
as  gentlemen.  His  father,  who  was  a  considerable 
dealer  in  wool,5  had  so  large  a  family,  ten  children 

*  His  father,  toko  was  a  considerable  dealer  in  ivool,]  It  ap- 
pears that  he  had  been  an  officer  and  bailiff  of  Stratford-upon- 
Avon;  and  that  he  enjoyed  some  hereditary  lands  and  tenements, 
the  reward  of  his  grandfather's  faithful  and  approved  services  to 
King  Henry  VII.     See  the  extract  from  the  Herald's  Office. 

Theobald. 

The  chief  Magistrate  of  the  Body  Corporate  of  Stratford,  now 
distinguished  by  the  title  of  Mayor,  was  in  the  early  charters 
called  the  High  Bailiff.  This  office  Mr.  John  Shakspeare  filled 
in  1569,  as  appears  from  the  following  extracts  from  the  books 
of  the  corporation,  with  which  I  have  been  favoured  by  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Davenport,  Vicar  of  Stratford-upon-Avon: 

"  Jan.  10,  in  the  6th  year  of  the  reign  of  our  sovereign  lady 
Queen  Elizabeth,  John  Shakspeare  passed  his  Chamberlain's  ac- 
counts. 

"  At  the  Hall  holden  the  eleventh  day  of  September,  in  the 
eleventh  year  of  the  reign  of  our  sovereign  lady  Elizabeth,  156Q, 
were  present  Mr.  John  Shakspeare,  High  Bailiff."  [Then  follow 
the  nimes  of  the  Aidermen  and  Burgesses.] 

«  At  the  Hall  holden  Nov.  19th,  in  the  2 1st  year  of  the  reign 
of  our  sovereign  lady  Queen  Elizabeth,  it  is  ordained,  that  every 
Alderman  shall  be  taxed  to  pay  weekly  4d.  saving  John  Shak- 
speare and  Robert  Bruce,  who  shall  not  be  taxed  to  pay  any 
thing;  and  every  burgess  to  pay  2d." 

"  At  the  Hall  holden  on  the  6th  day  of  September,  in  the 
28th  year  of  our  sovereign  lady  Qu  en  Elizabeth. 

"  At  this  Hall  William  Smith  and  Richard  Courte  are  chosen 
to  be  Aldermen  in  the  places  of  John  Wheler,  and  John  Shak- 
speare, for  that  Mr.  Wheler  doth  desire  to  be  put  out  of  the  com- 
pany, and  Mr.  Shakspere  doth  not  come  to  the  halls,  when  they 
be  warned,  nor  hath  not  done  of  long  time." 

From  these  extracts  it  may  be  collected,  (as  is  observed  by  the 
gentleman  above  mentioned,  to  whose  obliging  attention  to  my 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.        59 

in  all,  that  though  he  was  his  eldest  son,  he  could 
give  him  no  better  education  than  his  own  employ- 
ment. He  had  bred  him,  it  is  true,  for  some  time 
at  a  free  school,6  where,  it  is  probable,  he  acquired 
what  Latin  he  was  master  of:  but  the  narrowness 
of  his  circumstances,  and  the  want  of  his  assistance 
at  home,  forced  his  father  to  withdraw  him  from 
thence,  and  unhappily  prevented  his  further  pro- 
ficiency in  that  language.  It  is  without  contro- 
versy, that  in  his  works  we  scarce  find  any  traces 
of  any  thing  that  looks  like  an  imitation  of  the  an- 
cients. The  delicacy  of  his  taste,  and  the  natural 
bent  of  his  Own  great  genius,  (equal,  if  not  superior, 
to  some  of  the  best  of  theirs,)  would  certainly  have 
led  him  to  read  and  study  them  with  so  much  plea- 
sure, that  some  of  their  fine  images  would  naturally 
have  insinuated  themselves  into,  and  been  mixed 


inquiries  lam  indebted  for  many  particulars  relative  to  our  poet's 
family,)  that  Mr.  John  Shakspeare  in  the  former  part  of  his  life 
was  in  good  circumstances,  such  persons  being  generally  chosen 
into  the  corporation;  and  from  his  being  excused  [in  15/93  t0 
pay  4d.  weekly,  and  at  a  subsequent  period  (1586)  put  out  of 
the  corporation,  that  he  was  then  reduced  in  his  circumstances. 

It  appears  from  a  note  to  W.  Dethick's  Grant  of  Arms  to  him 
in  1596,  now  in  the  College  of  Arms,  Vincent,  Vol.  157,  P«  24, 
that  he  was  a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  possessed  of  lands  and 
tenements  to  the  amount  of  5001. 

Our  poet's  mother  was  the  daughter  and  heir  of  Robert  Arden 
of  Wellingcote,  in  the  county  of  Warwick,  who,  in  the  MS. 
above  referred  to,  is  culled  u  a  gentleman  of  worship."  The 
family  of  Arden  is  a  very  ancient  one  ;  Robert  Arden  of  Brom- 
wich,  Esq.  being  in  the  list  of  the  gentry  of  this  county,  re- 
turned by  the  commissioners  in  the  twelfth  year  of  King  Henry 
VI.  A.  D.  14S3.  Edward  Arden  was  Sheriff  to  the  county  in 
1568. — The  woodland  part  of  this  county  was  anciently  called 
Ardern ;  afterwards  softened  to  Arden.     Hence  the  name. 

Ma  lows. 

•  He  had  bred  him,  it  is  true,  for  some  time  at  afree-school,] 
The  free -school,  I  presume,  founded  at  Stratford.     Theobald. 


60    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

with  his  own  writings;  so  that  his  not  copying  at 
least  something  from  them,  may  be  an  argument  of 
his  never  having  read  them.  Whether  his  igno- 
rance of  the  ancients  were  a  disadvantage  to  him 
or  no,  may  admit  of  a  dispute:  for  though  the 
knowledge  of  them  might  have  made  him  more . 
correct,  yet  it  is  not  improbable  but  that  the  re- 
gularity and  deference  for  them,  which  would  have 
attended  that  correctness,  might  have  restrained 
some  of  that  fire,  impetuosity,  and  even  beautiful 
extravagance,  which  we  admire  in  Shakspeare : 
and  I  believe  we  are  better  pleased  with  those 
thoughts,  altogether  new  and  uncommon^  which 
his  own  imagination  supplied  him  so  abundantly 
with,  than  if  he  had  given  us  the  most  beautiful 
passages  out  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  poets,  and 
that  in  the  most  agreeable  manner  that  it  was  pos- 
sible for  a  master  of  the  English  language  to  de- 
liver them. 

Upon  his  leaving  school,  he  seems  to  have 
given  entirely  into  that  way  of  living  which  his 
father  proposed  to  him;7  and  in  order  to  settle  in 
the  world  after  a  family  manner,  he  thought  fit  to 
marry  while  he  was  yet  very  young.8    His  wife  was 

7  — —  into  that  ixay  of  living  which  his  father  proposed  to 
him ;]  I  believe,  that  on  leaving  school  Shakspeare  was  placed 
in  the  office  of  some  country  attorney,  or  the  seneschal  of  some 
manor  court.  See  the  Essay  on  the  Order  of  his  Plays,  Article, 
Hamlet.     Malone. 

8  ■  ■  he  thought  Jit  to  marry  while  he  tvas  yet  very  young,] 
It  is  certain  he  did  so  ;  for  by  the  monument  in  Stratford  church 
erected  to  the  memory  of  his  daughter,  Susanna,  the  wife  of 
John  Hall,  gentleman,  it  appears,  that  she  died  on  the  2d  of 
July,  1649,  aged  66;  so  that  she  was  born  in  1583,  when  her 
father  could  not  be  full  19  years  old.     Theobald. 

Susanna,  who  was  our  poet's  eldest  child,  was  baptized, 
May  26,  1583.  Shakspeare  therefore,  having  been  born  in 
April  1564,  was  nineteen  the  month  preceding  her  birth.     Mr. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.        61 

the  daughter  of  one  Hathaway,9  said  to  have  been 
a  substantial  yeoman  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Stratford.  In  this  kind  of  settlement  he  conti- 
nued for  some  time,  till  an  extravagance  that  he 
was  guilty  of  forced  him  both  out  of  his  country, 
and  that  way  of  living  which  he  had  taken  up;  and 
though  it  seemed  at  first  to  be  a  blemish  upon  his 
good  manners,  and  a  misfortune  to  him,  yet  it 
afterwards  happily  proved  the  occasion  of  exerting 
one  of  the  greatest  geniuses  that  ever  was  known 
in  dramatick  poetry.  He  had  by  a  misfortune 
common  enough  to  young  fellows,  fallen  into  ill 
company,  and  amongst  them,  some  that  made  a 
frequent  practice  of  deer-stealing,  engaged  him 
more  than  once  in  robbing  a  park  that  belonged  to 
Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  of  Charlecote,  near  Stratford. 
For  this  he  was  prosecuted  by  that  gentleman,  as 
he  thought,  somewhat  too  severely;  and  in  order 
to  revenge  that  ill  usage,  he  made  a  ballad  upon 
him.'     And  though  this,  probably  the  first  essay 

Theobald  was  mistaken  in  supposing  that  a  monument  was  erected 
to  her  in  the  church  of  Stratford.  There  is  no  memorial  there 
in  honour  of  either  our  poet's  wife  or  daughter,  except  flat  tomb- 
stones, by  which,  however,  the  time  of  their  respective  deaths 
is  ascertained. — His  daughter,  Susanna,  died,  not  on  the  second, 
but  the  eleventh  of  July,  16-ig.  Theobald  was  led  into  this 
error  by  Dugdale.     Malone. 

9  His  wife  was  the  daughter  of  one  Hathaway,]  She  was 
eight  years  older  than  her  husband,  and  died  in  10'i.f ,  at  the  age 
of  67  years.     Theobald. 

The  following  is  the  inscription  on  her  tomb-stonein  the  church 
of  Stratford : 

"  Here  lyeth  interred  the  body  of  Anne,  wife  of  William 
Shakespeare,  who  departed  this  life  the  6th  day  of  August,  1023, 
being  of  the  age  of  67  yeares." 

After  this  inscription  follow  six  Latin  verses,  not  worth  pre- 
serving.    Ma  lost.. 

1 in  order  to  revenge    that  ill  usage,    he  made  a  ballad 

upon  him.]     Mr.  William  Oldys,   ( Norroy  King  at  Arms,  and 


62   SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

of  his  poetry,  be  lost,  yet  it  is  said  to  have  been 
so  very  bitter,  that  it  redoubled  the  prosecution 


well  known  from  the  share  he  had  in  compiling  the  Biographia 
Britannica)  among  the  collections  which  he  left  for  a  Life  of 
Shakspeare,  observes,  that  "  — there  was  a  very  aged  gentleman 
living  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Stratford,  (where  he  died  fifty 
years  since)  who  had  not  only  heard,  from  several  old  people  in 
that  town,  of  Shakspcare's  transgression,  but  could  remember 
the  first  stanza  of  that  bitter  ballad,  which,  repeating  to  one  of 
his  acquaintance,  he  preserved  it  in  writing;  and  here  it  is  nei- 
ther better  nor  worse,  but  faithfully  transcribed  from  the  copy 
which  his  relation  very  courteously  communicated  to  me:" 

"  A  parliemente  member,  a  justice  of  peace, 
"  At  home  a  poor  scare-crowe,  at  London  an  asse, 
"  If  lowsie  is  Lucy,  as  some  volke  miscalle  it, 
"  Then  Lucy  is  lowsie  whatever  befall  it : 

"  He  thinks  himself  greate, 

"  Yet  an  asse  in  his  state 
"  We  allowe  by  his  ears  but  with  asses  to  mate. 
"  If  Lucy  is  lowsie,  as  some  volke  miscalle  it, 
"  Sing  lowsie  Lucy,  whatever  befall  it." 

Contemptible  as  this  performance  must  now  appear,  at  the 
time  when  it  was  written  it  might  have  had  sufficient  power  to 
irritate  a  vain,  weak,  and  vindictive  magistrate ;  especially  as  it 
was  affixed  to  several  of  his  park-gates,  and  consequently  pub- 
lished among  his  neighbours. — It  may  be  remarked  likewise, 
that  the  jingle  on  which  it  turns,  occurs  in  the  first  scene  of  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

I  may  add,  that  the  veracity  of  the  late  Mr.  Oldys  has  never 
yet  been  impeached ;  and  it  is  not  very  probable  that  a  ballad 
should  be  forged,  from  which  an  undiscovered  wag  could  derive 
no  triumph  over  antiquarian  credulity.     Steevens. 

According  to  Mr.  Capell,  this  ballad  came  originally  from  Mr. 
Thomas  Jones,  who  lived  at  Tarbick,  a  village  in  Worcester- 
shire, about  18  miles  from  Stratford-upon-Avon,  and  died  in 
1703,  aged  upwards  of  ninety.  "  He  remembered  to  have 
heard  from  several  old  people  at  Stratford  the  story  of  Shak- 
speare's  robbing  Sir  Thomas  Lucy's  park;  and  their  account  of 
it  agreed  with  Mr.  Rowe's,  with  this  addition,  that  the  ballad 
written  against  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  by  Shakspeare  was  stuck  upon 
his  park-gate,  which  exasperated  the  knight  to  apply  to  a  lawyer 
at  Warwick  to  proceed  against  him.  Mr.  Jones  (it  is  added)  put 
down  in  writing  the  first  stanza  of  this  ballad,  which  was  all  he 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         63 

against  him  to  that  degree,  that  he  was  obliged  to 
leave  his  business  and  family  in  Warwickshire,  for 
some  time,  and  shelter  himself  in  London. 

It  is  at  this  time,  and  upon  this  accident,  that 
he  is  said  to  have  made  his  first  acquaintance  in  the 
playhouse.  He  was  received  into  the  company  then 
in  being,  at  first  in  a  very  mean  rank,2  but  his  ad- 


remembered  of  it."    In  a  note  on  the  transcript  with  which  Mr, 
Capell  was  furnished,  it  is  said,  that  "  the  people  of  those  parts 

Sronounce  lovosie  like  Lucy."  They  do  so  to  this  day  in  Scotland. 
Ir.  Wilkes,  grandson  of  the  gentleman  to  whom  Mr.  Jones  re- 
peated the  stanza,  appears  to  have  been  the  person  who  gave  a 
copy  of  it  to  Mr.  Oldys,  and  Mr.  Capell. 

In  a  manuscript  History  of  the  Stage,  full  of  forgeries  and 
falsehoods  of  various  kinds  written  (I  suspect  by  William  Chet- 
wood  the  prompter)  some  time  between  April  1727  and  October 
1/30,  is  the  following  passage,  to  which  the  reader  will  give  just 
as  much  credit  as  he  thinks  fit: 

"  Here  we  shall  observe,  that  the  learned  Mr.  Joshua  Barnes, 
late  Greek  Professor  of  the  University  of  Cambridge,  baiting 
about  forty  years  ago  at  an  inn  in  Stratford,  and  hearing  an  old 
woman  singing  part  of  the  above-said  song,  such  was  his  respect 
for  Mr.  Shakspeare's  genius,  that  he  gave  her  a  newgown  for  the 
two  following  stanzas  in  it;  and,  could  she  have  said  it  all,  he 
would  (as  he  often  said  in  company,  when  any  discourse  has 
casually  arose  about  him)  have  given  her  ten  guineas: 

"  Sir  Thomas  was  too  covetous, 

"  To  covet  so  much  deer, 
**  When  horns  enough  upon  his  head, 

"  Most  plainly  did  appear. 

'*  Had  not  his  worship  one  deer  left? 

"  What  then  ?     He  had  a  wife 
"  Took  pains  enough  to  find  him  horns 

"  Should  last  him  during  life."     Malonb. 

•  He  xoas  received  into  the  company — at  first  in  a  very  mean 
rank;)  There  is  a  stage  tradition,  that  his  first  office  in  the  thea- 
tre was  that  of  CaU-Coy,  or  prompter's  attendant ;  whose  em- 
ployment it  is  to  give  the  performers  notice  to  be  ready  to  enter, 
as  often  as  the  business  of  the  play  requires  their  appearance  on 
the  stage.     Ma  lone. 


64    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

mirable  wit,  and  the  natural  turn  of  it  to  the  stage, 
soon  distinguished  him,  if  not  as  an  extraordinary 
actor,  yet  as  an  excellent  writer.  His  name  is 
printed,  as  the  custom  was  in  those  times,  amongst 
those  of  the  other  players,  before  some  old  plays, 
but  without  any  particular  account  of  what  sort  of 

?arts  he  used  to  play ;  and  though  I  have  inquired, 
could  never  meet  with  any  further  account  of 
him  this  way,  than  that  the  top  of  his  performance 
was  the  Ghost  in  his  own  Hamlet?  I  should  have 
been  much  more  pleased,  to  have  learned  from  cer- 
tain authority,  which  was  the  first  play  he  wrote  ;4 
it  would  be  without  doubt  a  pleasure  to  any  man, 
curious  in  things  of  this  kind,  to  see  and  know  what 
was  the  first  essay  of  a  fancy  like  Shakspeare's. 
Perhaps  we  are  not  to  look  for  his  beginnings,  like 
those  of  other  authors,  among  their  least  perfect 
writings ;  art  had  so  little,  and  nature  so  large  a 
share  in  what  he  did,  that,  for  aught  I  know,  the 
performances  of  his  youth,  as  they  were  the  most 
vigorous,  and  had  the  most  fire  and  strength  of 
imagination  in  them,  were  the  best.5    I  would  not 

3 than  that  the  top  of  his  performance  was  the  Ghost  in 

his  own  Hamlet.J  See  such  notices  as  I  have  been  able  to  collect 
on  this  subject,  in  the  List  of  old  English  actors,  post. 

Malone. 

4 to  have  learned  from  certain  authority,  xvhich  was  the 

first  play  he  wrote ;]  The  highest  date  of  any  1  can  yet  find,  is 
Romeo  and  Juliet  in  1597,  when  the  author  was  33  years  old; 
and  Richard  the  Second,  and  Third,  in  the  next  year,  viz.  the 
34th  of  his  age.     Pope. 

Richard  II.  and  III.  were  both  printed  in  1597. — On  the 
order  of  time  in  which  Shakspeare's  plays  were  written,  see  the 
Essay  in  the  next  volume.     Malone.  _j 

•' for  aught  I  know,  the  performances  of  his  youth — were 

the  best."]  See  this  notion  controverted  in  An  Attempt  to  ascer- 
tain the  Order  of  Shakspeare' s  Plays.     Malone. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         65 

be  thought  by  this  to  mean,  that  his  fancy  was  so 
loose  and  extravagant,  as  to  be  independent  on  the 
rule  and  government  of  judgment ;  but  that  what 
he  thought  was  commonly  so  great,  so  justly  and 
rightly  conceived  in  itself,  that  it  wanted  little  or 
no  correction,  and  was  immediately  approved  by  an 
impartial  judgment  at  the  first  sight.     But  though 
the  order  of  time  in  which  the  several  pieces  were 
written  be  generally  uncertain,  yet  there  are  pas- 
sages in  some  few  of  them  whicn  seem  to  fix  their 
dates.     So  the  Chorus  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  act 
of  Henry  the  Fifth,  by  a  compliment  very  hand- 
somely turned  to  the  Earl  of  Essex,  shows  the  play 
to  have  been  written  when  that  lord  was  general 
for  the  Queen  in  Ireland;  and  his  elogy  upon  Queen 
Elizabeth,  and  her  successor  King  James,  in  the 
latter  end  of  his  Henry  the  Eighth,  is  a  proof  of 
that  play's  being  written  after  the  accession  of  the 
latter  or  these  two  princes  to  the  crown  of  England. 
Whatever  the  particular  times  of  his  writing  were, 
the  people  of  his  age,  who  began  to  grow  wonder- 
fully fond  of  diversions  of  this  kind,  could  not  but 
be  highly  pleased  to  see  a  genius  arise  amongst  them 
of  so  pleasurable,  so  rich  a  vein,  and  so  plentifully 
capable  of  furnishing   their   favourite   entertain- 
ments. Besides  the  advantages  of  his  wit,  he  was  in 
himself  a  good-natured  man,  of  great  sweetness  in 
his  manners,  and  a  most  agreeable  companion  ;  so 
that  it  is  no  wonder,  if,  with  so  many  good  qualities, 
he  made  himself  acquainted  with  the  best  conver- 
sations of  those  times.  Queen  Elizabeth  had  several 
of  his  plays  acted  before  her,  and  without  doubt 
gave  him  many  gracious  marks  of  her  favour:  it  is 
that  maiden  princess  plainly,  whom  he  intends  by 

"  a  fair  vestal,  throned  by  the  west." 

A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream. 

VOL.  I.  F 


66    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 


I 


and  that  whole  passage  is  a  compliment  very  pro- 
erly  brought  in,  and  very  handsomely  applied  to 
er.  She  was  so  well  pleased  with  that  admirable 
character  of  Falstaff,  in  The  Two  Parts  of  Henry 
the  Fourth,  that  she  commanded  him  to  continue  it 
for  one  play  more,6  and  to  show  him  in  love.  This 
is  said  to  be  the  occasion  of  his  writing  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor.  How  well  she  was  obeyed,  the 
play  itself  is  an  admirable  proof.  Upon  this  occa- 
sion it  may  not  be  improper  to  observe,  that  this 
part  of  Falstaff  is  said  to  have  been  written  ori- 
ginally under  the  name  of  OldcastleP  some  of 
that  family  being  then  remaining,  the  Queen  was 

E leased  to  command  him  to  alter  it ;  upon  which 
e  made  use  of  Falstaff.  The  present  offence  was 
indeed  avoided ;  but  I  do  not  know  whether  the 
author  may  not  have  been  somewhat  to  blame  in 
his  second  choice,  since  it  is  certain  that  Sir  John 
Falstaff,  who  was  a  knight  of  the  garter,  and  a 
lieutenant-general,  was  a  name  of  distinguished 
merit  in  the  wars  in  France  in  Henry  the  Fifth's 
and  Henry  the  Sixth's  times.  What  grace  soever 
the  Queen  conferred  upon  him,  it  was  not  to  her 
only  he  owed  the  fortune  which  the  reputation  of 

6  — —  she  commanded  him  to  continue  it  for  one  play  more,] 
This  anecdote  was  first  given  to  the  publick  by  Dennis,  in  the 
Epistle  Dedicatory  to  his  comedy  entitled  The  Comical  Gallant, 
4 to.  1/02,  altered  from  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

Malone. 

7  this  part  of  Falstaff  is  said  to  have  been  xvritten  ori- 
ginally under  the  name  o/"01dcastle ;]  See  the  Epilogue  to  Henry 
the  Fourth.    Pope. 

In  a  note  subjoined  to  that  Epilogue,  and  more  fully  in  Vol.  XI. 
p.  1Q4.  n.  3,  the  reader  will  6nd  this  notion  overturned,  and  the 
origin  of  this  vulgar  error  pointed  out.  Mr.  Rowe  was  evidently 
deceived  by  a  passage  in  Fuller's  Worthies,  misunderstood. 

Malone. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         61 

his  wit  made.  He  had  the  honour  to  meet  with 
many  great  and  uncommon  marks  of  favour  and 
friendship  from  the  Earl  of  Southampton,8  famous 
in  the  histories  of  that  time  for  his  friendship  to 
the  unfortunate  Earl  of  Essex.  It  was  to  that  noble 
lord  that  he  dedicated  his  poem  of  Venus  and  Ado- 
nis.9 There  is  one  instance  so  singular  in  the  mag- 
nificence of  this  patron  of  Shakspeare's,  that  if  I  had 
not  been  assured  that  the  story  was  handed  down 
by  Sir  William  D'Avenant,  who  was  probably  very 
well  acquainted  with  his  affairs,  I  should  not  have 
ventured  to  have  inserted ;  that  my  Lord  South- 
ampton at  one  time  gave  him  a  thousand  pounds, 
to  enable  him  to  go  through  with  a  purchase  which 
he  heard  he  had  a  mind  to.  A  bounty  very  great, 
and  very  rare  at  any  time,  and  almost  equal  to  that 
profuse  generosity  the  present  age  has  shown  to 
French  dancers  and  Italian  singers. 

What  particular  habitude  or  friendships  he  con- 
tracted with  private  men,  I  have  not  been  able  to 
learn,  more  than  that  every  one,  who  had  a  true 
taste  of  merit,  and  could  distinguish  men,  had  ge- 
nerally a  just  value  and  esteem  for  him.  His  ex- 
ceeding candour  and  good-nature  must  certainly 
have  inclined  all  the  gentler  part  of  the  world  to 
love  him,  as  the  power  of  his  wit  obliged  the  men 
of  the  most  delicate  knowledge  and  polite  learning 
to  admire  him. 

His  acquaintance  with  Ben  Jonson  began  with  a 

*  from  the  Earl  of  Southampton,]    Of  this  amiable  no- 

bleman such  memoirs  as  I  have  been  able  to  collect,  may  be 
found  in  the  tenth  volume,  [i.  e.  of  Mr.  Malone's  edition]  pre- 
fixed to  the  poem  of  Venus  and  Adonis.    Malone. 

9  — —  he  dedicated  his  poem  of  Venus  and  Adonis,]  To  this 
nobleman  also  he  dedicated  his  Rape  qfLucrece,  printed  in  4to. 
in  1591.     Malom-. 

F  2 


68    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

remarkable  piece  of  humanity  and  good-nature ; 
Mr.  Jonson,  who  was  at  that  time  altogether  un- 
known to  the  world,  had  offered  one  of  his  plays 
to  the  players,  in  order  to  have  it  acted ;  and  the 
persons  into  whose  hands  it  was  put,  after  having 
turned  it  carelessly  and  superciliously  over,  were 
just  upon  returning  it  to  him  with  an  ill-natured  an- 
swer, that  it  would  be  of  no  service  to  their  com- 
pany ;  when  Shakspeare  luckily  cast  his  eye  upon  it, 
and  found  something  so  well  in  it,  as  to  engage  him 
first  to  read  it  through,  and  afterwards  to  recom- 
mend Mr.  Jonson  and  his  writings  to  the  publick.1 


*  to  recommend  Mr.  Jonson  and  his  writings  to  the  pub- 

lick  J]  InMr.Rowe's  first  edition,  after  these  words  was  inserted 
the  following  passage: 

"  After  this,  they  were  professed  friends ;  though  I  do  not 
know  whether  the  other  ever  made  him  an  equal  return  of  gentle- 
ness and  sincerity.  Ben  was  naturally  proud  and  insolent,  and 
in  the  days  of  his  reputation  did  so  far  take  upon  him  the  supre- 
macy in  wit,  that  he  could  not  but  look  with  an  evil  eye  upon 
any  one  that  seemed  to  stand  in  competition  with  him.  And  if 
at  times  he  has  affected  to  commend  him,  it  has  always  been 
with  some  reserve;  insinuating  his  uncorrectness,  a -careless 
manner  of  writing,  and  want  of  judgment.  The  praise  of  sel- 
dom altering  or  blotting  out  what  he  writ,  which  was  given  him 
by  the  players,  who  were  the  first  publishers  of  his  works  after 
his  death,  was  what  Jonson  could  not  bear:  he  thought  it  im- 
possible, perhaps,  for  another  man  to  strike  out  the  greatest 
thoughts  in  the  finest  expression,  and  to  reach  those  excellencies 
of  poetry  with  the  ease  of  a  first  imagination,  which  himself  with 
infinite  labour  and  study  could  but  hardly  attain  to.'r 

I  have  preserved  this  passage  because  I  believe  it  strictly  true, 
except  that  in  the  last  line,  instead  of  but  hardly,  I  would  read 
—never, 

Dryden,  we  are  told  by  Pope,  concurred  with  Mr.  Rowe  in 
thinking  Jonson's  posthumous  verses  on  our  author  sparing  and 
invidious. — See  also  Mr.  Steevens's  note  on  those  verses. 

Before  Shakspeare's  death  Ben's  envious  disposition  is  men- 
tioned by  one  of  his  own  friends ;  it  must  therefore  have  been 
even  then  notorious;  though  the  writer  denies  the  truth  of  the 
charge : 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         69 

Jonson  was  certainly  a  very  good  scholar,  and  in 
that  had  the  advantage  of  Shakspeare ;  though  at 


"  To  my  well  accomplish'd  friend,  Mr.  Ben.  Jonson. 

"  Thou  art  sound  in  body ;  but  some  say,  thy  soule 
"  Envy  doth  ulcer;  yet  corrupted  hearts 
"  Such  censurers  must  have.'* 

Scourge  of  Folly,  by  J.  Davies,  printed  about  1611. 
The  following  lines  by  one  of  Jonson's  admirers  will  suffici- 
cently  support  Mr.  Rowe  in  what  he  has  said  relative  to  the  slow- 
ness of  that  writer  in  his  compositions: 

"  Scorn  then  their  censures  who  gave  out,  thy  wit 
"  As  long  upon  a  comedy  did  sit 
"  As  elephants  bring  forth,  and  that  thy  blots 
'*  And  mendings  took  more  time  than  Fortune-Plots; 
"  That  such  thy  drought  was,  and  so  great  thy  thirst, 
u  That  all  thy  plays  were  drawn  at  the  Mermaid  first; 
"  That  the  king's  yearly  butt  wrote,  and  his  wine 
"  Hath  more  right  than  thou  to  thy  Catiline" 
The  writer  does  not  deny  the  charge,  but  vindicates  his  friend 
by  saying  that,  however  slow, — 

"  He  that  writes  well,  writes  quick — ." 

Verses  on  B.  Jonson,  by  Jasper  Mayne. 
So  also,  another  of  his  Panegyrists: 

"  Admit  his  muse  was  slow,  'tis  judgment's  fate 
"  To  move  like  greatest  princes,  still  in  state." 
In  The  Return  from  Parnassus,  1606",  Jonson  is  said  to  be 
"  so  slow  an  enditer,  that  he  were  better  betake  himself  to  his 
old  trade  of  bricklaying."  The  same  piece  furnishes  us  with  the 
earliest  intimation  of  the  quarrel  between  him  and  Shakspeare : 
"  Why  here's  our  fellow  Shakspeare  put  them  [the  university 
poets]  all  down,  ay,  and  Ben  Jonson  too.  O,  that  Ben  Jonson 
is  a  pestilent  fellow ;  he  brought  up  Horace  giving  the  poets  a 

Kill,  but  our  fellow  Shakspeare  hath  given  him  a  purge  that  made 
im  bewray  his  credit."  Fuller,  who  was  a  diligent  inquirer, 
and  lived  near  enough  the  time  to  be  well  informed,  confirms 
this  account,  asserting  in  his  Worthies,  1662,  that  "  many  were 
the  wit-combats"  between  Jonson  and  our  poet. 

It  is  a  singular  circumstance  that  old  Ben  should  for  near  two 
centuries  have  stalked  on  the  stilts  of  an  artificial  reputation; 
and  that  even  at  this  day,  of  the  very  lew  who  read  his  works, 
scarcely  one  in  ten  yet  ventures  to  confess  how  little  entertainment 
they  afford.  Such  was  the  impression  made  on  the  publick  by 
the  extravagant  praises  of  those  who  knew  more  of  books  than 


70    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

the  same  time  I  believe  it  must  be  allowed,  that 
what  nature  gave  the  latter,  was  more  than  a  ba- 


of  the  drama,  that  Dry  den  in  his  Essay  on  Dramatick  Poesie, 
written  about  1667,  does  not  venture  to  go  further  in  his  elogium 
on  Shakspeare,  than  by  saying,  «*  he  was  at  least  Jonson's  equal, 
if  not  his  superior;"  and  in  the  preface  to  his  Mock  Astrologer, 
I671,  he  hardly  dares  to  assert,  what,  in  my  opinion,  cannot  be 
denied,  that  "  all  Jonson's  pieces,  except  three  or  four,  are  but 
crambe  bis  coda  ;  the  same  humours  a  little  varied,  and  written 
worse." 

Ben,  however,  did  not  trust  to  the  praise  of  others.     One  of 
his  admirers  honestly  confesses, — 

« he 

"  Of  whom  I  write  this,  has  prevented  me, 

"  And  boldly  said  so  much  in  his  own  praise, 

"  No  other  pen  need  any  trophy  raise." 
In  vain,  however,  did  he  endeavour  to  bully  the  town  into  ap- 
probation by  telling  his  auditors,  "  By  G —  'tis  good,  and  if  you 
like't,  you  may  ;"  and  by  pouring  out  against  those  who  pre- 
ferred our  poet  to  him,  a  torrent  of  illiberal  abuse;  which,  as 
Mr.  Walpole  justly  observes,  some  of  his  contemporaries  were 
willing  to  think  wit,  because  they  were  afraid  of  it ;  for,  not- 
withstanding all  his  arrogant  boasts,  notwithstanding  all  the 
clamour  of  his  partisans  both  in  his  own  life-time  and  for  sixty 
years  after  his  death,  the  truth  is,  that  his  pieces,  when  first  per- 
formed, were  so  far  from  being  applauded  by  the  people,  that 
they  were  scarcely  endured;  and  many  of  them  were  actually 
damned, 

" the  fine  plush  and  velvets  of  the  age 

"Did  oft  for  sixpence  damn  thee  from  the  stage," — 
says  one  of  his  eulogists  in  Jonsonius  Virbius,  4to.  1638.  Jon- 
son  himself  owns  that  Sejanus  was  damned.  "  It  is  a  poem," 
says  he,  in  his  Dedication  to  Lord  Aubigny,  "  that,  if  I  well 
remember,  in  your  lordship's  sight  suffered  no  less  violence  from 
our  people  here,  than  the  subject  of  it  did  from  the  rage  of  the 
people  of  Rome."  HisfriendE.  B.  (probably  Edmund  Bolton) 
speaking  of  the  same  performance,  says, — 

"  But  when  I  view'd  the  people's  beastly  rage, 
"  Bent  to  confound  thy  grave  and  learned  toil, 
"  That  cost  thee  so  much  sweat  and  so  much  oil, 

*'  My  indignation  I  could  hardly  assuage." 
Again,  in  his  Dedication  of  Catiline  to  the  Earl  of  Pembroke, 
the  author  says,  "  Posterity  may  pay  your  benefit  the  honour  and 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         71 

lance  for  what  books  had  given  the  former ;  and 
the  judgment  of  a  great  man  upon  this  occasion 
was,  I  think, very  just  and  proper.  In  a  conversation 
between  Sir  John  Suckling,  Sir  William  D'Ave- 
nant,  Endymion  Porter,  Mr.  Hales  of  Eton,  and 
Ben  Jonson,  Sir  John  Suckling,  who  was  a  professed 
admirer  of  Shakspeare,  had  undertaken  his  defence 
against  Ben  Jonson  with  some  warmth  j  Mr.  Hales, 
who  had  sat  still  for  some  time,  told  them,2  That  if 
Mr.  Shakspeare  had  not  read  the  ancients,  he  had 
likewise  not  stolen  any  thing  from  them ;  and  that  if 
he  would  produce  any  one  topick  finely  treated  by 
any  one  o}%  them,  he  would  undertake  to  show  some- 


thanks,  when  it  shall  know  that  you  dare  in  these  jig-given  times 
to  countenance  a  legitimate  poem.  I  must  call  it  so,  against  all 
noise  of  opinion,  from  whose  crude  and  ayrie  reports  I  appeal  to 
that  great  and  singular  facultie  of  judgment  in  your  lordship." 

See  also  the  Epilogue  to  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  by  Lord 
Buckhurst,  quoted  below  in  The  Account  of  our  old  English 
Theatres,  adjinem.  To  his  testimony  and  that  of  Mr.  Drum- 
mond  of  Hawthomden,  (there  also  mentioned,)  may  be  added 
that  of  Leonard  Digges  in  his  Verses  on  Shakspeare,  and  of  Sir 
Robert  Howard,  who  says  in  the  preface  to  his  Plays,  folio,  1665, 
(not  thirty  years  after  Hen's  death,)  "  When  I  consider  how  se- 
vere the  former  age  has  been  to  some  of  the  best  of  Mr.  Jonson's 
never-to- be- equalled  comedies,  I  cannot  but  wonder,  why  any 
poet  should  speak  of  former  times."  The  truth  is,  that  however 
extravagant  the  elogiums  were  that  a  few  scholars  gave  him  in 
their  closets,  he  was  not  only  not  admired  in  his  own  time  by 
the  generality,  but  not  even  understood.  His  friend  Beaumont 
assures  him  in  a  copy  of  verses,  that  "  his  sense  is  so  deep  that 
he  will  not  be  understood  for  three  ages  to  come."     Malonx. 

*  Mr.  Hales,  who  had  sat  still  for  some  time,  told  them,]  In 
Mr.  Howe's  first  edition  this  passage  runs  thus  : 

"  Mr.  Hales,  who  had  sat  still  for  some  time,  hearing  Ben 
frequently  reproach   him  with   the  want  of  learning  and  igno- 
rance of  the  antients,  told  him  at  last,  That  if  Mr.  Shakspeare," 
Arc.     By  the  alteration,   the  subsequent  part  of  the  sentence— 
*•  if  he  would  produce,"  &c.  is  rendered  ungraramatical. 

Maloni. 


12    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

thing  upon  the  same  subject  at  least  as  "well  written 
by  Shakspeare3 


s he  tvould  undertake  to  show  something  upon  the  same 

subject  at  least  as  well  written  by  ShakspcareJ]  I  had  long  en- 
deavoured in  vain  to  find  out  on  what  authority  this  relation  was 
founded  ;  and  have  very  lately  discovered  that  Mr.  Rowe  proba- 
bly derived  his  information  from  Dryden  :  for  in  Gildon's  Letters 
and  Essays,  published  in  1694,  fifteen  years  before  this  Life  ap- 
peared, the  same  story  is  told ;  and  Dryden,  to  whom  an  Essay 
in  vindication  of  Shakspeare  is  addressed,  is  appealed  to  by  the 
writer  as  his  authority.  As  Gildon  tells  the  story  with  some  slight 
variations  from  the  account  given  by  Mr.  Rowe,  and  the  book  in 
which  it  is  found  is  now  extremely  scarce,  I  shall  subjoin  the 
passage  in  his  own  words :        ^ 

"  But  to  give  the  world  some  satisfaction  that  Shakspeare  has 
had  as  great  veneration  paid  his  excellence  by  men  of  unques- 
tioned parts,  as  this  I  now  express  for  him,  I  shall  give  some 
account  of  what  I  have  heard  from  your  mouth,  sir,  about  the 
noble  triumph  he  gained  over  all  the  ancients,  by  the  judgment 
of  the  ablest  criticks  of  that  time. 

"  The  matter  of  fact,  if  my  memory  fail  me  not,  was  this. 
Mr.  Hales  of  Eton  affirmed,  that  he  would  show  all  the  poets  of 
antiquity  out-done  by  Shakspeare,  in  all  the  topicks  and  common- 
places made  use  of  in  poetry.  The  enemies  of  Shakspeare  would 
by  no  means  yield  him  so  much  excellence;  so  that  it  came  to  a 
resolution  of  a  trial  of  skill  upon  that  subject.  The  place  agreed 
on  for  the  dispute  was  Mr.  Hales's  chamber  at  Eton.  A  great 
many  books  were  sent  down  by  the  enemies  of  this  poet ;  and 
on  the  appointed  day  my  Lord  Falkland,  Sir  John  Suckling,  and 
all  the  persons  of  quality  that  had  wit  and  learning,  and  interest- 
ed themselves  in  the  quarrel,  met  there;  and  upon  a  thorough 
disquisition  of  the  point,  the  judges  chosen  by  agreement  out  of 
this  learned  and  ingenious  assembly,  unanimously  gave  the  pre- 
ference to  Shakspeare,  and  the  Greek  and  Roman  poets  were  ad- 
judged to  vail  at  least  their  glory  in  that,  to  the  English  Hero." 

This  elogium  on  our  author  is  likewise  recorded  at  an  earlier 
period  by  Tate,  probably  from  the  same  authority,  in  the  preface 
to  The  Loyal  General,  quarto,  168O:  "  Our  learned  Hales  was 
wont  to  assert,  that,  since  the  time  of  Orpheus,  and  the  oldest 
poets,  no  common-place  has  been  touched  upon,  where  our  au- 
thor has  not  performed  as  well." 

Dryden  himself  also  certainly  alludes  to  this  story,  which  he 
appears  to  have  related  both  to  Gildon  and  Rowe,  in  the  follow- 


Gb  ^e 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         73 

The  latter  part  of  his  life  was  spent,  as  all  men 
of  good  sense  will  wish  theirs  may  be,  in  ease,  re- 
tirement, and  the  conversation  of  his  friends.  He 
had  the  good  fortune  to  gather  an  estate  equal  to 
his  occasion,4  and,  in  that,  to  his  wish;  and  is  said 

ing  passage  of  his  Essay  of  Dramatick  Poesy,  l6<57;  and  he  as 
well  as  Gildon  goes  somewhat  further  than  Rowe  in  his  panegy- 
rick.  After  giving  that  fine  character  of  our  poet  which  Dr. 
Johnson  has  quoted  in  his  preface,  he  adds,  "  The  consideration 
of  this  made  Mr.  Hales  of  Eton  say,  that  there  was  no  subject 
of  which  any  poet  ever  writ,  but  he  would  produce  it  much 
better  done  by  Shakspeare;  and  however  others  are  now  ge- 
nerally preferred  before  him,  yet  the  age  wherein  he  lived,  which 
had  contemporaries  with  him,  Fletcher  and  Jonson,  never 
equalled  them  to  him  in  their  esteem :  And  in  the  last  king's 
court  [that  of  Charles  I.]  when  Ben's  reputation  was  at  highest, 
Sir  John  Suckling,  and  with  him  the  greater  part  of  the  courtiers, 
set  our  Shakspeare  far  above  him." 

Let  ever-memorable  Hales,  if  all  his  other  merits  be  forgotten, 
be  ever  mentioned  with  honour,  for  his  good  taste  and  admira- 
tion of  our  poet.  "  He  was,"  says  Lord  Clarendon,  "  one  of 
the  least  men  in  the  kingdom ;  and  one  of  the  greatest  scholars 
in  Europe."  See  a  long  character  of  him  in  Clarendon's  Life, 
Vol.  1.  p.  52.     Malone. 

*  He  had  the  good  fortune  to  gather  an  estate  equal  to  his  oc- 
casion,'] Gildon,  without  authority,  I  believe,  says,  that  our  au- 
thor left  behind  him  an  estate  of  3001.  per  aim.  This  was  equal 
to  at  least  lOOOl.  per  ann.  at  this  day;  the  relative  value  of  mo- 
ney, the  mode  of  living  in  that  age,  the  luxury  and  taxes  of  the 
present  time,  and  various  other  circumstances,  being  considered. 
But  I  doubt  whether  all  his  property  amounted  to  much  more 
than  2001.  per  ann.  which  yet  was  a  considerable  fortune  in  those 
times.  He  appears  from  his  grand-daughter's  will  to  have  pos- 
sessed inBishopton,  and  Stratford  Welcombe,  fouryard  land  and 
a  half.  A  yard  land  is  a  denomination  well  known  in  Warwick- 
shire, and  contains  from  30  to  60  acres.  The  average  therefore 
being  45,  four  yard  land  and  a  half  may  be  estimated  at  about 
two  hundred  acres.  As  sixteen  years  purchase  was  the  common 
rate  at  which  the  land  was  sold  at  tiiat  time,  that  is,  one  half 
less  than  at  this  day,  we  may  suppose  that  these. lands  were  let  at 
seven  shillings  per  acre,  and  produced  /Ol.  per  annum.  If  wc 
rate  the  New-Place  with  the  appurtenances,  and  our  poet's  other 


74    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

to  have  spent  some  years  before  his  death  at  his 
native  Stratford.*     His  pleasurable  wit  and  good- 


houses  in  Stratford,  at  661.  a  year,  and  his  house,  &c.  in  the 
Blackfriars,  (for  which  he  paid  1401.)  at  20l.  a  year,  we  have  a 
rent-roll  of  J50l.  per  annum.  Of  his  personal  property  it  is  not 
now  possible  to  form  any  accurate  estimate  :  but  if  we  rate  it  at 
live  hundred  pounds,  money  then  bearing  an  interest  often  per 
cent.  Shakspeare's  total  income  was  2001.  per  ann.*  In  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  which  was  written  soon  after  the 
year  16OO,  three  hundred  pounds  a  year  is  described  as  an 
estate  of  such  magnitude  as  to  cover  all  the  defects  of  its  pos- 
sessor: 

"  O,  what  a  world  of  vile  ill-favour'd  faults 

"  Look  handsome  in  three  hundred  pounds  a  year." 

Malone. 

1  —  to  have  spent  some  years  before  his  death  at  his  native 
Stratford."]  In  1614  the  greater  part  of  the  town  of  Stratford 
was  consumed  by  fire  ;  but  our  Shakspeare's  house,  among  some 
others,  escaped  the  flames.  This  house  was  first  built  by  Sir 
Hugh  Clopton,  a  younger  brother  of  an  ancient  family  in  that 
neighbourhood.  Sir  Hugh  was  Sheriff  of  London  in  the  reign  of 
Richard  III.  and  Lord  Mayor  in  the  reign  of  King  Henry  VII. 
By  his  will  he  bequeathed  to  his  elder  brother's  son  his  manor  of 
Clopton,  &c.  and  his  house,  by  the  name  of  the  Great  House  in 
Stratford.  Good  part  of  the  estate  is  yet  [in  1733]  in  the  pos- 
session of  Edward  Clopton,  Esq.  and  Sir  Hugh  Clopton,  Knt. 
lineally  descended  from  the  elder  brother  of  the  first  Sir  Hugh. 

The  estate  had  now  been  sold  out  of  the  Clopton  family  for 
above  a  century,  at  the  time  when  Shakspeare  became  the  pur- 
chaser :  who  having  repaired  and  modelled  it  to  his  own  mind, 
changed  the  name  to  New- Place,  which  the  mansion-house,  since 
erected  upon  the  same  spot,  at  this  day  retains.  The  house,  and 
lands  which  attended  it,  continued  in  Shakspeare's  descendants 
to  the  time  of  the  Restoration ;  when  they  were  re-purchased  by 
the  Clopton  family,  and  the  mansion  now  belongs  to  Sir  Hugh 
Clopton,  Knt.  To  the  favour  of  this  worthy  gentleman  I  owe 
the  knowledge  of  one  particular  in  honour  of  our  poet's  once 
dwelling-house,  of  which  I  presume  Mr.  Rowe  never  was  ap- 
prized.    When  the  Civil  War  raged  in  England,  and  King 

*  To  Shakspeare's  income  from  his  real  and  personal  property  must  be 
added  2001.  per  ann.  which  he  probably  derived  from  the  theatre,  while  he 
continued  on  the  stage. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.        15 

nature  engaged  him  in  the  acquaintance,  and  en- 
titled him  to  the  friendship,  of  the  gentlemen  of 

Charles  the  First's  Queen  was  driven  by  the  necessity  of  her  a£ 
fairs  to  make  a  recess  in  Warwickshire,  she  kept  her  court  for 
three  weeks  in  New- Place.  We  may  reasonably  suppose  it  then 
the  best  private  house  in  the  town;  and  her  Majesty  preferred  it 
to  the  College,  which  was  in  the  possession  of  the  Combe  family, 
who  did  not  so  strongly  favour  the  King's  party.     Theobald. 

From  Mr.  Theobald's  words  the  reader  may  be  led  to  suppose 
that  Henrietta  Maria  was  obliged  to  take  refuge  from  the  rebels 
in  Stratford-upon-Avon:  but  that  was  not  the  case.  She  marched 
from  Newark,  June  16,  l643t  and  entered  Stratford-upon-Avon 
triumphantly,  about  the  22d  of  the  same  month,  at  the  head  of 
three  thousand  foot  and  fifteen  hundred  horse,  with  150  waggons 
and  a  train  of  artillery.  Here  she  was  met  by  Prince  Rupert,  ac- 
companied by  a  large  body  of  troops.  After  sojourning  about 
three  weeks  at  our  poet's  house,  which  was  then  possessed  by  his 
grand-daughter  Mrs.  Nash,  and  her  husband,  the  Queen  went 
(July  13)  to  the  plain  of  Keinton  under  Edge-hill,  to  meet  the 
King,  and  proceeded  from  thence  with  him  to  Oxford,  where, 
says  a  contemporary  historian,  "  hercoming  (July  15)  was  rather 
to  a  triumph  than  a  war." 

Of  the  College  above  mentioned  the  following  was  the  origin. 
John  de  Stratford,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  in  the  fifth  year  of 
King  Edward  III.  founded  a  Chantry  consisting  of  five  priests, 
one  of  whom  was  Warden,  in  a  certain  chapel  adjoining  to  the 
church  of  Stratford  on  the  south  side;  and  afterwards  (in  the 
seventh  year  of  Henry  VIII.)  Ralph  Collingwode  instituted  four 
choristers,  to  be  daily  assistant  in  the  celebration  of  divine  service 
there.  This  chantry,  saysDugdale,  soon  after  its  foundation,  was 
known  by  the  name  of  The  College  of  Stratford-upon-Avon. 

In  the  26th  year  of  Edward  III.  "  a  house  of  square  stone"  was 
built  by  Ralphde  Stratford,  Bishop  of  London,  for  the  habitation 
of  the  five  priests.  This  house,  or  another  on  the  same  spot,  is 
the  house  of  which  Mr.  Theobald  speaks.  It  still  bears  the  name 
ot  ««  The  College,"  and  at  present  belongs  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Fuller- 
ton. 

After  the  suppression  of  religious  houses,  the  site  of  the  college 
was  granted  by  Edward  VI.  to  John  Earl  of  Warwick  and  his 
heirs  ;  who  being  attainted  in  the  first  year  of  Queen  Mary,  it  re- 
verted to  the  crown. 

Sir  John  Clopton,  Knt.  (the  father  of  Edward  Clopton,  Esq. 
and  Sir  Hugh  Clopton,)  who  died  at  Stratford-upon-Avon  in 


76    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

the  neighbourhood.  Amongst  them,  it  is  a  story 
almost  still  remembered  in  that  country  that  he 

April,  I7iy,  purchased  the  estate  of  New-Place,  &c.  some  time 
after  theyear  1685,  from  Sir  Reginald  Forster,  Bart,  who  married 
Mary,  the  daughter  of  Edward  Nash,  Esq.  cousin-german  to 
Thomas  Nash,  Esq.  who  married  our  poet's  grand-daughter,  Eliza- 
beth Hall.  Edward  Nash  bought  it,  after  the  death  of  her  second 
husband,  Sir  John  Barnard,  Knight.  By  her  will,  which  will 
be  found  in  a  subsequent  page,  she  directed  her  trustee,  Henry 
Smith,  to  sell  the  New-Place,  &c.  (after  the  death  of  her  hus- 
band,) and  to  make  the  first  oner  of  it  to  her  cousin  Edward 
Nash,  who  purchased  it  accordingly.  His  son  Thomas  Nash, 
whom  for  the  sake  of  distinction  I  shall  call  the  younger,  having 
died  without  issue,  in  August,  1652,  Edward  Nash  by  his  will, 
made  on  the  ltith  of  March,  1678-9,  devised  the  principal  part 
of  his  property  to  his  daughter  Mary,  and  her  husband  Reginald 
Forster,  Esq.  afterwards  Sir  Reginald  Forster ;  but  in  conse- 
quence of  the  testator's  only  referring  to  a  deed  of  settlement 
executed  three  days  before,  without  reciting  the  substance  of  it, 
no  particular  mention  of  New-Place  is  made  in  his  will.  After 
Sir  John  Clopton  had  bought  it  from  Sir  Reginald  Forster,  he 
gave  it  by  deed  to  his  younger  son,  Sir  Hugh,  who  pulled 
down  our  poet's  house,  and  built  one  more  elegant  on  the  same 
spot. 

In  May,  1742,  when  Mr.  Garrick,  Mr.  Macklin,  and  Mr. 
Delane  visited  Stratford,  they  were  hospitably  entertained  under 
Shakspeare's  mulberry-tree,  by  Sir  Hugh  Clopton.  He  was  a 
barrister  at  law,  was  knighted  by  George  the  First,  and  died  in 
the  80th  year  of  his  age,  in  Dec.  17 51.  His  nephew,  Edward 
Clopton,  the  son  of  his  elder  brother  Edward,  lived  till  June, 
1753. 

The  only  remaining  person  of  the  Clopton  family  now  living 
(1788),  as  I  am  informed  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Davenport,  is  Mrs. 
Partheriche,  dau.-  liter  and  heiress  of  the  second  Edward  Clopton 
above  mentioned.  "  She  resides,"  he  adds,  "  at  the  family 
mansion  at  Clopton  near  Stratford,  is  now  a  widow,  and  never 
had  any  issue." 

The  New  Place  was  sold  by  Henry  Talbot,  Esq.  son-in-law 
and  executor  of  Sir  Hugh  Clopton,  in  or  soon  after  the  year 
1752,  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gastrell,  a  man  of  large  fortune,  who 
resided  in  it  but  a  few  years,  in  consequence  of  a  disagreement 
with  the  inhabitants  of  Stratford.  Every  house  in  that  town 
that  is  let  or  valued  at  more  than  40s.  a  year,  is  assessed  by  the 
overseers,  according  to  its  worth  and  the  ability  of  the  occupier, 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         77 

had  a  particular  intimacy  with  Mr.  Combe,6  an  old 
gentleman  noted  thereabouts  for  his  wealth  and 

to  pay  a  monthly  rate  toward  the  maintenance  of  the  poor.  As 
Mr.  Gastrell  resided  part  of  the  year  at  Lichfield,  he  thought  he 
was  assessed  too  highl}' ;  but  being  very  properly  compelled  by 
the  magistrates  of  Stratford  to  pay  the  whole  of  what  was  levied 
on  him,  on  the  principle  that  his  house  was  occupied  by  his  ser- 
vantsin  his  absence,  he  peevishly  declared,  that  that  house  should 
never  be  assessed  again ;  and  soon  afterwards  pulled  it  down,  sold 
the  materials,  and  left  the  town.  Wishing,  as  it  should  seem, 
to  be  "  damn'd  to  everlasting  fame,"  he  had  some  time  before  cut 
down  Shakspeare's  celebrated  mulberry-tree,  to  save  himself 
the  trouble  of  showing  it  to  those  whose  admiration  of  our 
great  poet  led  them  to  visit  the  poetick  ground  on  which  it 
stood. 

That  Shakspeare  planted  this  tree,  is  as  well  authenticated  as 
any  thing  of  that  nature  can  be.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Davenport  in- 
forms me,  that  Mr.  Hugh  Taylor,  (the  father  of  his  clerk,)  who 
is  now  eighty-five  years  old,  and  an  alderman  of  Warwick, 
where  he  at  present  resides,  says,  he  lived  when  a  boy  at  the 
next  house  to  New-Place;  that  his  family  had  inhabited  the 
house  for  almost  three  hundred  years;  that  it  was  transmitted 
from  father  to  son  during  the  last  and  the  present  century;  that 
this  tree  (of  the  fruit  of  which  he  had  often  eaten  in  his  younger 
days,  some  of  its  branches  hanging  over  his  father's  garden, ) 
was  planted  by  Shakspeare;  and  that  till  this  was  planted,  there 
was  no  mulberry-tree  in  that  neighbourhood.  Mr.  Taylor  adds, 
that  he  was  frequently,  when  a  boy,  at  New-Place,  and  that 
this  tradition  was  preserved  in  the  Clopton  family,  as  well  as  in 
his  own. 

There  were  scarce  any  trees  of  this  species  in  England  till  the 
year  1609,  when  by  order  of  King  James  many  hundred  thou- 
sand young  mulberry-trees  were  imported  from  France,  and  sent 
into  the  different  counties,  with  a  view  to  the  feeding  of  silk- 
worms, and  the  encouragement  of  the  silk  manufacture.  See 
Camdeni  Annalcs  ab  anno  1603  ad  annum  1()23,  published  by 
Smith,  quarto,  1691,  p.  7;  and  Howes's  Abridgment  of  Stowe's 
Chronicle,  edit.  lOltf,  p.  503,  where  we  have  a  more  particular 
account  of  this  transaction  than  in  the  larger  work.  A  very  few 
mulberry-trees  had  been  planted  before ;  for  we  are  told,  that 
in  the  preceding  year  a  gentleman  of  Picardy,  Monsieur  Forest, 
"  kept  greate  store  of  English  silkworms  atGreenwich,  the  which 
the  king  with  great  pleasure  came  often  to  see  them  worke ;  and 
*f  their  silke  he  caused  apiece  oftaffhta  to  be  made.*' 


78   SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

usury:  it  happened,  that  in  a  pleasant  conversa- 
tion amongst  their  common  friends,  Mr.  Combe 
told  Shakspeare  in  a  laughing  manner,  that  he 
fancied  he  intended  to  write  his  epitaph,  if  he  hap- 
pened to  out-live  him ;  and  since  he  could  not 
know  what  might  be  said  of  him  when  he  was  dead, 


Shakspeare  was  perhaps  the  only  inhabitant  of  Stratford,  whose 
business  called  him  annually  to  London;  and  probably  on  his 
return  from  thence  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1609,  he  planted 
this  tree. 

As  a  similar  enthusiasm  to  that  which  with  such  diligence  has 
sought  after  Virgil's  tomb,  may  lead  my  countrymen  to  visit  the 
spot  where  our  great  bard  spent  several  years  of  his  life,  and 
died;  it  may  gratify  them  to  be  told  that  the  ground  on  which 
The  New-Place  once  stood,  is  now  a  garden  belonging  to  Mr. 
Charles  Hunt,  an  eminent  attorney,  and  town- clerk  of  Stratford. 
Every  Englishman  will,  I  am  sure,  concur  with  me  in  wishing 
that  it  may  enjoy  perpetual  verdure  and  fertility: 

In  this  retreat  our  Shakspeark's  godlike  mind 
With  matchless  skill  survey'd  all  human  kind. 
Here  may  each  sweet  that  blest  Arabia  knows, 
Flowers  of  all  hue,  and  without  thorn  the  rose, 
To  latest  time,  their  balmy  odours  fling, 
And  Nature  here  display  eternal  spring  !    Malone. 

6  that  he  had  a  particular  intimacy  with  Mr.  Combe,] 

This  Mr.  John  Combe  I  take  to  be  the  same,  who,  by  Dugdale, 
in  his  Antiquities  of  Warwickshire,  is  said  to  have  died  in  the 
year  16]  4,  and  for  whom  at  the  upper  end  of  the  quire  of  the 
guild  of  the  holy  cross  at  Stratford,  a  fair  monument  is  erected, 
having  a  statue  thereon  cut  in  alabaster,  and  in  a  gown,  with 
this  epitaph:  "  Here  lyeth  interred  the  body  of  John  Combe,  Esq. 
who  departing  this  life  the  tOth  day  of  July,  16 14,  bequeathed 
by  his  last  will  and  testament  these  sums  ensuing,  annually  to  be 
paid  for  ever ;  viz.  xx.  s.  for  two  sermons  to  be  preach'd  in  this 
church,  and  vi.  1.  xiii.  s.  iv.  d.  to  buy  ten  gownes  for  ten  poore 
people  within  the  borough  of  Stratford ;  and  1001.  to  be  lent  to 
fifteen  poore  tradesmen  of  the  same  borough,  from  three  years 
to  three  years,  changing  the  parties  every  third  year,  at  the  rate 
of  fifty  shillings  per  annum,  the  which  increase  he  appointed  to 
be  distributed  towards  the  relief  of  the  almes-poor  there.''  The 
donation  has  all  the  air  of  a  rich  and  sagacious  usurer. 

Theobald. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         79 

he  desired  it  might  be  done  immediately;  upon 
which  Shakspeare  gave  him  these  four  verses : 

"  Ten  in  the  hundred  lies  here  ingrav'd;7 

"  'Tis  a  hundred  to  ten  his  soul  is  not  sav'd: 

"  If  any  man  ask,  Who  lies  in  this  tomb? 

"  Oh!  ho!  quoth  the  devil,  'tis  my  John-a-Combe."' 

7  Tetr  in  the  hundred  lies  here  ingrav'd;]  In  The  More  the 
Merriert  containing  Three  Score  and  odd  headless  Epigrams, 
shot,  [like  the  Footes  Bolts)  among  you,  light  where  they  will: 
By  H.  P.  Gent.  &c.  l609,  I  find  the  following  couplet,  which 
is  almost  the  same  as  the  two  beginning  lines  of  this  Epitaph  on 
John-a-Combe: 

"  FENERATORIS    EPITAPHIUM. 

"  Ten  in  the  hundred  lies  under  this  stone, 
"  And  a  hundred  to  ten  to  the  devil  he's  gone."' 
Again,  in  Wit's  Interpreter,  8vo.  3d  edit.  l67l,  p.  298: 
*'  Here  lies  at  least  ten  in  the  hundred, 

*'  Shackled  up  both  hands  and  feet, 
"  That  at  such  as  lent  mony  gratis  wondred, 
"  The  gain  of  usury  was  so  6weet : 
"  But  thus  being  now  of  life  bereav'n, 
"  'Tis  a  hundred  to  ten  he's  scarce  gone  to  heav'n." 

Steevens. 
So,  in  Camden's  Remains,  1614: 

**  Here  lyes  ten  in  the  hundred, 
«'  In  the  ground  fast  ramm'd ; 
"  'Tis  an  hundred  to  ten 

"  But  his  soule  is  damn'd."     Malone. 

*  Oh  !  ho !  quoth  the  devil,  'tis  my  John-a-Combe.]  The 
Rev.  Francis  Peck,  in  his  Memoirs  of  the  Life  and  Poetical 
Works  of  Mr.  John  Milton,  4to.  1740,  p.  223,  has  introduced 
another  epitaph  imputed  (on  what  authority  is  unknown)  to 
Shakspeare.  It  is  on  Tom-a-Combe,  alias  Thin-beard,  brother  to 
this  John,  who  is  mentioned  by  Mr.  Rowe: 

'•'  Thin  in  beard,  and  thick  in  purse ; 

u  Never  man  beloved  worse ; 

"  He  went  to  the  grave  with  many  a  curse : 

*•  The  devil  and  he  had  both  one  nurse."     Steevens. 

I  suspect  that  these  lines  were  sent  to  Mr.  Peck  by  some  per- 
son that  meant  to  impose  upon  him.     It  appears  from  Mr.  John 


80  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

But  the  sharpness  of  the  satire  is  said  to  have  stung 
the  man  so  severely,  that  he  never  forgave  it.^ 


Combe's  will,  that  his  brother  Thomas  was  dead  in  l6i4.  John 
devised  the  greater  part  of  his  real  and  personal  estate  to  his 
nephew  Thomas  Combe,  with  whom  Shakspeare  was  certainly 
on  good  terms,  having  bequeathed  him  his  sword. 

Since  I  wrote  the  above,  I  find  from  the  Register  of  Stratford, 
that  Mr.  Thomas  Combe  (the  brother  of  John)  was  buried  there, 
Jan.  22,  1609-10.     M alone. 

9 the  sharpness  of  the  satire  is  said  to  have  stung  the  man 

so  severely,  that  he  never  forgave  it.~\  I  take  this  opportunity 
to  avow  my  disbelief  that  Shakspeare  was  the  author  of  Mi*. 
Combe's  Epitaph,  or  that  it  was  written  by  any  other  person  » 
at  the  request  of  that  gentleman.  If  Betterton  the  player  did 
really  visit  Warwickshire  for  the  sake  of  collecting  anecdotes 
relative  to  our  author,  perhaps  he  was  too  easily  satisfied  with 
such  as  fell  in  his  way,  without  making  any  rigid  search  into 
their  authenticity.  It  appears  also  from  a  following  copy  of  this 
inscription,  that  it  was  not  ascribed  to  Shakspeare  so  early  as 
two  years  after  his  death.  Mr.  Reed  of  Staple-Inn  obligingly 
pointed  it  out  to  me  in  the  Remains,  &c.  of  Richard  Braithwaite, 
1618;  and  as  his  edition  of  our  epitaph  varies  in  some  measure 
from  the  latter  one  published  by  Mr.  Rowe,  I  shall  not  hesitate 
to  transcribe  it : 

"  Upon  one  John  Combe  of  Stratford  upon  Avon,  a  notable 
Usurer,  fastened  upon  a  Tombe  that  he  had  caused  to  be  built 
in  his  Life-Time: 

0  Ten  in  the  hundred  must  lie  in  his  grave, 
"  But  a  hundred  to  ten  whether  God  will  him  have: 
"  Who  then  must  be  interr'd  in  this  tombe? 
"  Ch  (quoth  the  divill)  my  John  a  Combe" 
Here  it  may  be  observed  that,  strictly  speaking,  this  is  no  jocu- 
lar epitaph,  but  a  malevolent  prediction;  and  Braithwaite's  copy 
is  surely  more  to  be  depended  on  (being  procured  in  or  before 
the  year  1618)  than  that  delivered  to  Betterton  or  Rowe,  almost 
a  century  afterwards.     It  has  been  already  remarked,  that  two 
of  the  lines  said  to  have  been  printed  on  this  occasion,  were 
printed  as  an  epigram  in  16O8,  by  H.  P.Gent,  and  are  likewise 
found  in  Camden's  Remains,  16 14.     I  may  add,  that  a  usurer's 
solicitude  to,  know  what  would  be  reported  of  him  when  he  was 
dead,  is  not  a  very  probable  circumstance ;  neither  was  Shak- 
speare of  a  disposition  to  compose  an  invective,  at  once  so  bitter 
and  uncharitable,  during  a  pleasant  conversation  among  the  com' 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         81 
He  died  in  the  53d  year  of  his  age,1  and  was 

mon  friends  of  himself  and  a  gentleman,  with  whose  family  he 
Uvea  in  such  friendship,  that  at  his  death  he  bequeathed  his  sword 
to  Mr.  Thomas  Combe  as  a  legacy.  A  miser's  monument  indeed, 
constructed  during  his  life-time,  might  be  regarded  as  a  chal- 
lenge to  satire;  and  we  cannot  wonder  that  anonymous  lampoons 
should  have  been  affixed  to  the  marble  designed  to  convey  the, 
character  of  such  a  being  to  posterity. — I  hope  I  may  be  excused 
for  this  attempt  to  vindicate  Shakspeare  from  the  imputation  of 
having  poisoned  the  hour  of  confidence  and  festivity,  by  produc- 
ing the  severest  of  all  censures  on  one  of  his  company.  I  am 
unwilling,  in  short,  to  think  he  could  so  wantonly  and  so  pub- 
lickly  have  expressed  his  doubts  concerning  the  salvation  of  one 
of  his  fellow-creatures.     Steevens. 

Since  the  above  observations  first  appeared,  (in  a  note  to  the 
edition  of  our  author's  Poems  which  I  published  in  1780,)  I  have 
obtained  an  additional  proof  of  what  has  been  advanced,  in  vin- 
dication of  Shakspeare  on  this  subject.  It  occurred  to  me  that 
the  will  of  John  Combe  might  possibly  throw  some  light  on  this 
matter,  and  an  examination  of  it  some  years  ago  furnished  me 
with  such  evidence  as  renders  the  story  recorded  in  Braithwaite's 
Remains  very  doubtful:  and  still  more  strongly  proves  that,  who- 
ever was  the  author  of  this  epitaph,  it  is  highly  improbable  that 
it  should  have  been  written  by  Snakspeare. 

The  very  first  direction  given  by  Mr.  Combe  in  his  will  is, 
concerning  a  tomb  to  be  erected  to  him  after  his  death.  "  My 
will  is,  that  a  convenient  tomb  of  the  value  of  threescore  pounds 
shall  by  my  executors  hereafter  named,  out  of  my  goods  and 
chattels  first  raysed,  within  one  year  after  my  decea3e,  be  set 
over  me."  So  much  for  Braithwaite's  account  of  his  having 
erected  his  own  tomb  in  his  life-time.  That  he  had  any  quarrel 
with  our  author,  or  that  Shakspeare  had  by  any  act  stung  him  so 
severely  that  Mr.  Combe  never  for gave  him,  appears  equally  void 
of  foundation ;  for  by  his  will  he  bequeaths  "  to  Mr.  William 
Shakspere  Five  Pounds."  It  is  probable  that  they  lived  in  inti- 
macy, and  that  Mr.  Combe  had  made  some  purchase  from  our 
poet;  for  he  devises  to  his  brother  George,  "  the  close  or  grounds 
known  by  the  name  of  Parson's  Close,  alias  Shaksnere's  Close." 
It  must  be  owned  that  Mr.  Combe's  will  is  dated  Jan.  28,  l6l2- 
13,  about  eighteen  months  before  his  death  ;  and  therefore  the 
evidence  now  produced  is  not  absolutely  decisive,  as  he  might 
have  erected  a  tomb,  and  a  rupture  might  have  happened  be- 
tween him  and  Shakspeare,  after  the  making  of  this  will :  but  it 

VOL.  I.  G 


82    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 
buried  on  the  north  side  of  the  chancel,  in  the 


is  very  improbable  that  any  such  rupture  should  have  taken 
place;  for  if  the  supposed  cause  of  offence  had  happened  subse- 
quently to  the  execution  of  the  instrument,  it  is  to  be  presumed 
that  he  would  have  revoked  the  legacy  to  Shakspeare  :  and  the 
same  argument  may  be  urged  with  respect  to  the  direction  con- 
cerning his  tomb. 

Mr.  Combe  by  his  will  bequeaths  to  Mr.  Francis  Collins,  the 
elder,  of  the  borough  of  Warwick,  (who  appears  as  a  legatee 
and  subscribing  witness  to  Shakspeare's  will,  and  therefore  may 
be  presumed  a  common  friend,)  ten  pounds;  to  his  godson  John 
Collins,  (the  son  of  Francis,)  ten  pounds;  to  Mrs.  Susanna 
Collins  (probably  godmother  to  our  poet's  eldest  daughter)  six 
pounds,  thirteen  shillings,  and  four-pence;  to  Mr.  Henry  Walker, 
(father  to  Shakspeare's  godson,)  twenty  shillings;  to  the  poor 
of  Stratford  twenty  pounds;  and  to  his  servants,  in  various 
legacies,  one  hundred  and  ten  pounds.  He  was  buried  at 
Stratford,  July  12,  1614,  and  his  will  was  proved,  Nov.  10, 
1615. 

Our  author,  at  the  time  of  making  his  will,  had  it  not  in  his 
power  to  show  any  testimony  of  his  regard  for  Mr.  Combe,  that 
gentleman  being  then  dead ;  but  that  he  continued  a  friendly 
correspondence  with  his  family  to  the  last,  appears  evidently  (as 
Mr.  Steevens  has  observed)  from  his  leaving  his  sword  to  Mr. 
Thomas  Combe,  the  nephew,  residuary  legatee,  and  one  of  the 
executors  of  John. 

On  the  whole  we  may  conclude,  that  the  lines  preserved  by 
Rowe,  and  inserted  with  some  variation  in  Braithwaite's  Remains, 
which  the  latter  has  mentioned  to  have  been  affixed  to  Mr. 
Combe's  tomb  in  his  life-time,  were  not  written  till  after  Shak- 
speare's death ;  for  the  executors,  who  did  not  prove  the  will 
till  Nov.  I6l5,  could  not  well  have  erected  "  a  fair  monument" 
of  considerable  expence  for  those  times,  till  the  middle  or  per- 
haps the  end  of  the  year  1616,  in  the  April  of  which  year  our 
poet  died.  Between  that  time  and  the  year  1(518,  when  Braith- 
waite's book  appeared,  some  one  of  those  persons  (we  may  pre- 
sume) who  had  suffered  by  Mr.  Combe's  severity,  gave  vent  to 
his  feelings  in  the  satirical  composition  preserved  by  Rowe  ; 
part  of  which,  we  have  seen,  was  borrowed  from  epitaphs  that 
had  already  been  printed. — That  Mr.  Combe  was  a  money- 
lender, may  be  inferred  from  a  clause  in  his  will,  in  which  he 
mentions  his  "  good  and  just  debtors ;"  to  every  one  of  whom  he 
remits,  "  twenty  shillings  for  every  twenty  pounds,  and  so  after 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         83 

great  church  at  Stratford,  where  a  monument  is 


this  rate  for  a  greater  or  lesser  debt,"  on  their  paying  in  to  his 
executors  what  they  owe. 

Mr.  Combe  married  Mrs.  Rose  Clopton,  August  27,  1560; 
and  therefore  was  probably,  when  he  died,  eighty  years  old. 
His  property,  from  the  description  of  it,  appears  to  nave  been 
considerable. 

In  justice  to  this  gentleman  it  should  be  remembered,  that  in 
the  language  of  Shakspeare's  age  an  usurer  did  not  mean  one 
who  took  exorbitant,  but  'any,  interest  or  usance  for  money ; 
which  many  then  considered  as  criminal.  The  opprobrious  terms 
by  which  such  a  person  was  distinguished,  Ten  in  the  hundred, 
proves  this;  for  ten  per  cent,  was  the  ordinary  interest  of  money. 
See  Shakspeare's  will. — Sir  Philip  Sidney  directs  by  his  will, 
made  in  1586,  that  Sir  Francis  Walsingham  shall  put  four  thou- 
sand pounds  which  the  testator  bequeathed  to  his  daughter,  "  to 
the  best  behoofe  either  by  purchase  of  land  or  lease,  or  some 
other  good  and  godly  use,  but  in  no  case  to  let  it  out  for  any 
usury  at  alL"     Malone. 

1  He  died  in  the  53d  year  of  his  ageJ]  He  died  on  his  birth- 
day, April  23,  16] 6,  and  had  exactly  completed  his  fifty-second 
year.  From  Du  Cange's  Perpetual  Almanack,  Gloss,  in  v.  Annus, 
(making  allowance  tor  the  different  style  which  then  prevailed  in 
England  from  that  on  which  Du  Cange's  calculation  was  formed,) 
it  appears,  that  the  23d  of  April  in  that  year  was  a  Tuesday. 

No  account  has  been  transmitted  to  us  of  the  malady  which 
at  so  early  a  period  of  life  deprived  England  of  its  brightest  or- 
nament. The  private  note-book  of  his  son-in-law  Dr.  Hall,* 
containing  a  short  state  of  the  cases  of  his  patients,  was  a  few 
years  ago  put  into  my  hands  by  ray  friend,  the  late  Dr.  Wright ; 
and  as  Dr.  Hall  married  our  poet's  daughter  in  the  year  1607, 
and  undoubtedly  attended  Shakgpeare  in  his  last  illness,  being 
then  forty  years  old,  I  had  hopes  this  book  might  have  enabled 
me  to  gratify  the  publick  curiosity  on  this  subject.  But  unluckily 
the  earliest  case  recorded  by  Hall,  is  dated  in  1617.  He  had 
probably  filled  some  other  book  with  memorandums  of  his  prac- 
tice in  preceding  years ;  which  by  some  contingency  may  here- 
after be  found,  and  inform  posterity  of  the  particular  circum- 


*  Dr.  Hall'*  porket-book  after  his  death  fell  into  the  hand*  of  a  «urgeo» 
of  Warwick,  who  published  a  translation  of  it,  (with  aome  addition*  of  hia 
own)  under  the  title  of  Se'ett  Oltervntioni  on  the  Enziih  Itodiet  of  eminent 
f'enoitt,  in  desperate  Duea.ei,  ice.     The  third  edition  was  printed  in  1683. 

G  2 


84   SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

placed  in  the  wall.2  Oivhis  grave-stone  underneath 
is,— 

"  Good  friend,3  for  Jesus'  sake  forbear 
"  To  dig  the  dust  inclosed  here. 
"  Blest  be  the  man  that  spares  these  stones, 
"  And  curst  be  he  that  moves  my  bones/'4 


stances  that  attended  the  death  of  our  great  poet. — From  the 
34th  page  of  this  book,  which  contains  an  account  of  a  disorder 
under  which  his  daughter  Elizabeth  laboured  (about  the  year 
1624,)  and  of  the  method  of  cure,  it  appears,  that  she  was  his 
only  daughter;  [Elizabeth  Hall,  filia  mea  unica,  tortura  oris 
defaedata.]  In  the  beginning  of  April  in  that  year  she  visited 
London,  and  returned  to  Stratford  on  the  22d ;  an  enterprise  at: 
that  time  "  of  great  pith  and  moment." 

While  we  lament  that  our  incomparable  poet  was  snatched 
from  the  world  at  a  time  when  his  faculties  were  in  their  full  vi- 
gour, and  before  he  was  "  declined  into  the  vale  of  years,"  let 
us  be  thankful  that  "  this  sweetest  child  of  Fancy"  did  not  perish 
while  he  yet  lay  in  the  cradle.  He  was  born  at  Stratford-upon- 
Avon  in  April  1564 ;  and  I  have  this  moment  learned  from  the 
Register  of  that  town  that  the  plague  broke  out  there  on  the  30th 
of  the  following  June,  and  raged  with  such  violence  between 
that  day  and  the  last  day  of  December,  that  two  hundred  and 
thirty-eight  persons  were  in  that  period  carried  to  the  grave,  of 
which  number  probably  216  died  of  that  malignant  distemper  ; 
and  one  only  of  the  whole  number  resided,  not  in  Stratford,  but 
in  the  neighbouring  town  of  Welcombe.  From  the  237  inhabit- 
ants of  Stratford,  whose  names  appear  in  the  Register,  twenty- 
one  are  to  be  subducted,  who,  it  may  be  presumed,  would  have 
died  in  six  months,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature ;  for  in  the 
five  preceding  years,  reckoning,  according  to  the  style  of  that 
time,  from  March  25,  1559,  t0  March  25,  1504,  two  hundred 
and  twenty-one  persons  were  buried  at  Stratford,  of  whom  210 
were  townsmen :  that  is,  of  these  latter  42  died  each  year,  at 
an  average.  Supposing  one  in  thirty-five  to  have  died  annually, 
the  total  number  of  the  inhabitants  of  Stratford  at  that  period 
was  1470 ;  and  consequently  the  plague  in  the  last  six  months  of 
the  year  1 564  carried  off  more  than  a  seventh  part  of  them.  For- 
tunately for  mankind  it  did  not  reach  the  house  in  which  the  in- 
fant Shakspeare  lay ;  for  not  one  of  that  name  appears  in  the 
dead  list. — May  we  suppose,  that,  like  Horace,  he  lay  secure  and 
fearless  in  the  midst  of  contagion  and  death,  protected  by  the 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         85 

Muses  to  whom  his  future  life  was  to  be  devoted,  and  covered 

over — 

" sacra 

"  Lauroque,  collataque  royrto, 

"  Non  sine  Diis  animosus  infans."     Malone. 

■where  a  monument  is  placed  in  the  tvall.~\   He  is  repre- 


sented under  an  arch,  in  a  sitting  posture,  a  cushion  spread  be- 
fore him,  with  a  pen  in  his  right  hand,  and  his  left  rested  on  a 
scroll  of  paper.  The  following  Latin  distich  is  engraved  under 
the  cushion : 

Judicio  Pylium,  genio  Socratem,  arte  Maronem, 
Terra  tegit,  poptdus  meeret,  Olympus  habet. 

Theobald. 
The  first  syllable  in  Socratetn  is  here  made  short,  which  can- 
not be  allowed.  Perhaps  we  should  read  Sophoclem.  Shakspeare 
is  then  appositely  compared  with  a  dramatick  author  among  the 
ancients :  but  still  it  should  be  remembered  that  the  elogium  is 
lessened  while  the  metre  is  reformed ;  and  it  is  well  known  that 
some  of  our  early  writers  of  Latin  poetry  were  uncommonly 
negligent  in  their  prosody,  especially  in  proper  names.  The 
thought  of  this  distich,  as  Mr.  Toilet  observes,  might  have  been 
taken  from  The  Faery  Queene  of  Spenser,  B.  II.  c.  ix.  st.  48, 
and  c.  x.  st.  3. 

To  this  Latin  inscription  on  Shakspeare  should  be  added  the 
lines  which  are  found  underneath  it  on  his  monument : 
"  Stay,  passenger,  why  dost  thou  go  so  fast  ? 
u  Read,  if  thou  canst,  whom  envious  death  hath  plac'd 
"  Within  this  monument ;  Shakspeare,  with  whom 
"  Quick  nature  dy'd;  whose  name  doth  deck  the  tomb 
"  Far  more  than  cost ;  since  all  that  he  hath  writ 
"  Leaves  living  art  but  page  to  serve  hi*  wit." 
"  Obiit  An".  Dni.  1616. 
aet.  53,  die  23  Apri.     Steevens. 

It  appears  from  the  Verses  of  Leonard  Digges,  that  our  au- 
thor's monument  was  erected  before  the  year  1623.  It  has  been 
engraved  by  Vertue,  and  done  in  mezzotinto  by  Miller. 

A  writer  in  The  Gentleman's  Magazine,  Vol.  XXIX.  p.  267, 
says,  there  is  as  strong  a  resemblance  between  the  bust  at  Strat- 
ford, and  the  portrait  of  our  author  prefixed  to  the  first  folio 
edition  of  his  plays,  "  as  can  well  be  between  a  statue  and  a 
picture."  To  me  (and  I  have  viewed  it  several  times  with  a  good 
deal  of  attention)  it  appeared  in  a  very  different  light.  When  I 
went  last  to  Stratford,  I  carried  with  me  the  only  genuine  prints 
of  Shakspeare  that  were  then  extant,  and  I  could  not  trace  any 
resemblance  between  them  and  this  figure.    There  is  a  pertneu 


86   SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

in  the  countenance  of  the  latter  totally  differing  from  that  placid 
composure  and  thoughtful  gravity,  so  perceptible  in  his  original 
portrait  and  his  best  prints.  Our  poet's  monument  having  been 
erected  by  his  son-in-law,  Dr.  Hall,  the  statuary  probably  had 
the  assistance  of  some  picture,  and  failed  only  from  want  of  skill 
to  copy  it. 

Mr.  Granger  observes  (Biog.  Hist.  Vol.  I.  p.  25p,)  that  "  it 
has  been  said  there  never  was  an  original  portrait  of  Shakspeare, 
but  that  Sir  Thomas  Clarges  after  his  death  caused  a  portrait  to 
be  drawn  for  him  from  a  person  who  nearly  resembled  him." 
This  entertaining  writer  was  a  great  collector  of  anecdotes,  but 
not  always  very  scrupulous  in  inquiring  into  the  authenticity  of 
the  information  which  he  procured  ;  for  this  improbable  tale,  I 
iind,  on  examination,  stands  only  on  the  insertion  of  an  anony- 
mous writer  in  The  Gentleman's  Magazine,  for  August,  1/59, 
who  boldly  "  affirmed  it  as  an  absolute  fact ;"  but  being  after- 
wards publickly  called  upon  to  produce  his  authority,  never  pro- 
duced any.  There  is  the  strongest  reason  therefore  to  presume 
it  a  forgery. 

"  Mr.  Walpole  (adds  Mr.  Granger)  informs  me,  that  the 
only  original  picture  of  Shakspeare  is  that  which  belonged  to  Mr. 
Keck,  from  whom  it  passed  to  Mr.  Nicoll,  whose  only  daughter 
married  the  Marquis  of  Caernarvon"  [now  Duke  of  Chandos]. 

From  this  picture,  his  Grace,  at  my  request,  very  obligingly 
permitted  a  drawing  to  be  made  by  that  excellent  artist  Mr. 
Ozias  Humphry ;  and  from  that  drawing  the  print  prefixed  to 
the  present  edition  has  been  engraved. 

In  the  manuscript  notes  of  the  late  Mr.  Oldys,  this  portrait 
is  said  to  have  been  ««  painted  by  old  Cornelius  Jansen." 
"  Others,"  he  adds,  "  say,  that  it  was  done  by  Richard  Burbage 
the  player ;"  and  in  another  place  he  ascribes  it  to  "  John  Tay- 
lor, the  player."  This  Taylor,  it  is  said  in  the  The  Critical  Re- 
view for  1 770,  left  it  by  ivill  to  Sir  William  D'Avenant.  But  un- 
luckily there  was  no  player  of  the  christian  and  surname  of  John 
Taylor,  contemporary  with  Shakspeare.  The  player  who  per- 
formed in  Shakspeare's  company,  was  Joseph  Taylor.  There 
was,  however,  a  painter  of  the  name  of  John  Taylor,  to  whom 
in  his  early  youth  it  is  barely  possible  that  we  may  have  been  in- 
debted for  the  only  original  portrait  of  our  author ;  for  in  the 
Picture-Gallery  at  Oxford  are  two  portraits  of  Taylor  the  Water- 
Poet,  and  on  each  of  them  "  John  Taylor  pinx.  1655."  There 
appears  some  resemblance  of  manner  between  these  portraits  and 
the  picture  of  Shakspeare  in  the  Duke  of  Chandos's  collection. 
That  picture  (I  express  the  opinion  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds)  has 
not  the  least  air  of  Cornelius  Jansen's  performances. 

That  this  picture  was  once  in  the  possession  of  Sir  Wm.  D' Ave- 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         8? 

nant  is  highly  probable  ;  but  it  is  much  more  likely  to  hare  been 
purchased  by  him  from  some  of  the  players  after  the  theatres 
were  shut  up  by  authority,  and  the  veterans  of  the  stage  were 
reduced  to  great  distress,  than  to  have  been  bequeathed  to  him 
by  the  person  who  painted  it ;  in  whose  custody  it  is  improbable 
that  it  should  have  remained.  Sir  William  D'Avenant  appears 
to  have  died  insolvent.  There  is  no  Will  of  his  in  the  Preroga- 
tive-Office ;  but  administration  of  his  effects  was  granted  to  John 
Otway,  his  principal  creditor,  in  May  ldfiS.  After  his  death, 
Betterten  the  actor  bought  it,  probably  at  a  publick  sale  of  his 
effects.  While  it  was  in  Betterton's  possession,  it  was  engraved  by 
Vandergucht,  for  Mr.  Rowe's  edition  of  Shakspeare,  in  1709. 
Betterton  made  no  will,  and  died  very  indigent.  He  had  a  large 
collection  of  portraits  of  actors  in  crayons,  which  were  bought 
at  the  sale  of  his  goods,  by  Bullfinch  the  Printseller,  who  sold 
them  to  one  Mr.  Sykes.  The  portrait  of  Shakspeare  was  pur- 
chased by  Mrs.  Barry  the  actress,  who  sold  it  afterwards  for  40 
guineas  to  Mr.  Robert  Keck.  In  1719,  while  it  was  in  Mr. 
Keek's  possession,  an  engraving  was  made  from  it  by  Vertue : 
a  large  half-sheet.  Mr.  NicoD  of  Colney-Hatch,  Middlesex, 
marrying  the  heiress  of  the  Keck  family,  this  picture  devolved 
to  him;  and  while  in  his  possession,  it  was,  in  1747,  engraved 
by  Houbraken  for  Birch's  Illustrious  Heads.  By  the  marriage 
of  the  Duke  of  Chandos  with  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Nicoll,  it  be- 
came his  Grace's  property. 

Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  painted  a  picture  of  our  author,  which 
he  presented  to  Dryden,  but  from  what  picture  he  copied,  I  am 
unable  to  ascertain,  as  I  have  never  seen  Kneller's  picture.  The 
poet  repaid  him  by  an  elegant  copy  of  Verses. — See  his  Poems, 
Vol.  II.  p.  231,  edit.  1743: 

**  Shakspeare,  thy  gift,  I  place  before  my  sight, 
■  With  awe  I  ask  his  blessing  as  I  write ; 
"  With  reverence  look  on  his  majestick  face, 
"  Proud  to  be  less,  but  of  his  godlike  race. 
"  His  soul  inspires  me,  while  thy  praise  I  write, 
"  And  I  like  Teucer  under  Ajax  tight: 
«•  Bids  thee,  through  me,  be  bold ;  with  dauntless  breast 
"  Contemn  the  bad,  and  emulate  the  best: 
**  Like  his,  thy  criticks  in  the  attempt  are  lost, 
"  When  most  they  rail,  know  then,  they  envy  most." 
It  appears  from  a  circumstance  mentioned  by  Dryden,  that 
these  verses  were  written  after  the  year  1683:  probably  after 
Rymer's  book  had  appeared  in  1693.     Dryden  having  made  no 
will,  and  his  wife  Lady  Elizabeth  renouncing,  administration  was 
granted  on  the  10th  of  June,  1/00,  to  his  son  Charles,  who 
was  drowned  in  the  Thanies  near  Windsor  in,  1704.  His  younger 


83   SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

brother,  Erasmus,  succeeded  to  the  title  of  Baronet,  and  died 
without  issue  in  17 11 ;  but  I  know  not  what  became  of  his  ef- 
fects, or  where  this  picture  is  now  to  be  found. 

About  the  year  1725  a  mezzotinto  of  Shakspeare  was  scraped 
by-  Simon,  said  to  be  done  from  an  original  picture  painted  by 
Zoust  or  Soest,  then  in  the  possession  of  T.  Wright,  painter,  in 
Covent  Garden.  The  earliest  known  picture  painted  by  Zoust 
in  England,  was  done  in  1657 ;  so  that  if  he  ever  painted  a  pic- 
ture of  Shakspeare,  it  must  have  been  a  copj'.  It  could  not 
however  have  been  made  from  D'Avenant's  picture,  (unless  the 
painter  took  very  great  liberties,)  for  the  whole  air,  dress,  dispo- 
sition of  the  hair,  &c.  are  different.    I  have  lately  seen  a  picture 

in  the  possession  of Douglas,  Esq.  at  Teddington  near 

Twickenham,  which  is,  I  believe,  the  very  picture  from  which 
Simon's  mezzotinto  was  made,  It  is  on  canvas,  (about  24  inches 
by  20, )  and  somewhat  smaller  than  the  life. 

The  earliest  print  of  our  poet  that  appeared,  is  that  in  the  title- 
page  of  the  first  folio  edition  of  his  works,  1623,  engraved  by 
Martin  Droeshout.  On  this  print  the  following  lines,  addressed 
to  the  reader,  were  written  by  Ben  Jonson : 

"  This  figure  that  thou  here  seest  put, 
.  "  It  was  for  gentle  Shakspeare  cut ; 

"  Wherein  the  graver  had  a  strife 

*'  With  nature,  to  out-do  the  life, 

"  O,  could  he  but  have  drawn  his  wit 

"  As  well  in  brass,  as  he  hath  hit 

"  His  face,  the  print  would  then  surpass 

"  All  that  was  ever  writ  in  brass ; 

"  But  since  he  cannot,  reader,  look 

"  Not  on  his  picture,  but  his  book." 
Droeshout  engraved  also  the  heads  of  John  Fox  the  martyrolo- 
gist,  Montjoy  Blount,  son  of  Charles  Blount  Earl  of  Devonshire, 
William  Fairfax,  who  fell  at  the  siege  of  Frankendale  in  1621, 
and  John  Howson,  Bishop  of  Durham.  The  portrait  of  Bishop 
Howson  is  at  Christ  Church,  Oxford.  By  comparing  any  of 
these  prints  (the  two  latter  of  which  are  well  executed)  with 
the  original  pictures  from  whence  the  engravings  were  made,  a 
better  judgment  might  be  formed  of  the  fidelity  of  our  author's 
portrait,  as  exhibited  by  this  engraver,  than  from  Jonson's  asser- 
tion, that  "  in  this  figure 

" the  graver  had  a  strife 

"  With  nature  to  out-do  the  life ;" 
a  compliment  which  in  the  books  of  that  age  was  paid  to  so 
many  engravers,  that  nothing  decisive  can  be  inferred  from  it. — 
It  does  not  appear  from  what  picture  this  engraving  was  made  : 
but  from  the  dress,  and  the  singular  disposition  of  the  hair,  &c. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         89 

it  undoubtedly  was  engraved  from  a  picture,  and  probably  a  very 
ordinary  one.  There  is  no  other  way  of  accounting  for  the  great 
difference  between  this  print  of  Droeshout's,  and  his  spirited 
portraits  of  Fairfax  and  Bishop  Howson,  but  by  supposing  that 
the  picture  of  Shakspeare  from  which  he  copied  was  a  very 
coarse  performance. 

The  next  print  in  point  of  time  is,  according  to  Mr.  Walpole 
and  Mr.  Granger,  that  executed  by  J.  Payne,  a  scholar  of  Simon 
Pass,  in  1634  ;  with  a  laurel-branch  in  the  poet's  left  hand.  A 
print  of  Shakspeare  by  so  excellent  an  engraver  as  Payne,  would 
probably  exhibit  a  more  perfect  representation  of  him  than  any 
other  of  those  times ;  but  I  much  doubt  whether  any  such  ever 
existed.  Mr.  Granger,  I  apprehend,  has  erroneously  attributed 
to  Payne  the  head  done  by  Marshall  in  1640,  (apparently  from 
Droeshout's  larger  print,)  which  is  prefixed  to  a  spurious  edition 
of  Shakspeare 's  Poems  published  in  that  year.  In  Marshall's 
print  the  poet  has  a  laurel  branch  in  his  left  hand.  Neither 
Mr.  Walpole,  nor  any  of  the  other  great  collectors  of  prints,  are 
possessed  of,  or  ever  saw,  any  print  of  Shakspeare  by  Payne,  as 
far  as  I  can  learn. 

Two  other  prints  only  remain  to  be  mentioned ;  one  engraved 
by  Vertue  in  J  721,  for  Mr.  Pope's  edition  of  our  author's  plays 
in  quarto ;  said  to  be  engraved  from  an  original  picture  in  the 
possession  of  the  Earl  of  Oxford ;  and  another,  a  mezzotinto,  by 
Earlom,  prefixed  to  an  edition  of  King  Lear,  in  1770;  said  to 
be  done  from  an  original  by  Cornelius  Jansen,  in  the  collection 
of  Charles  Jennens,  Esq.  but  Mr.  Granger  justly  observes,  "  as 
it  is  dated  in  ItilO,  before  Jansen  was  in  England,  it  is  highly 
probable  that  it  was  not  painted  by  him,  at  least,  that  he  did  not 
paint  it  as  a  portrait  of  Shakspeare." 

Most  of  the  other  prints  of  Shakspeare  that  have  appeared, 
were  copied  from  some  or  other  of  those  which  I  have  mentioned. 

Malone. 

"  The  portrait  palmed  upon  Mr.  Pope''  (I  use  the  words  of 
the  late  Mr.  Oldys,  in  a  MS.  note  to  his  copy  of  Langbaine, ) 
"  for  an  original  of  Shakspeare,  from  which  he  had  his  fine  plate 
engraven,  is  evidently  a  juvenile  portrait  of  King  James  I."  I  am 
no  judge  in  these  matters,  but  only  deliver  an  opinion,  which  if 
ill-grounded  may  be  easily  overthrown.  The  portrait,  to  me  at 
least,  has  no  traits  of  Shakspeare.     Steevens. 

*  On  his  grave-stone  underneath  m,  Good  friend,  &c]  This 
epitaph  is  expressed  in  the  following  uncouth  mixture  of  small 
and  capital  letters : 

"  Good  Frend  for  Iesus  SAKE  forbeare 

"  To  dic<;  T-E  Dust  EncloAsed  HE  Re 

"  Blese  be  TE  Man  J  spares  T$*s  Stones 

"  And  curst  be  He  \  moves  my  Bones."     Steevens. 


90   SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

4  And  curst  be  he  that  moves  my  bones."]  It  is  uncertain  whe- 
ther this  epitaph  was  written  by  Shakspeare  himself,  or  by  one 
of  his  friends  after  his  death.  The  imprecation  contained  in  this 
last  line,  was  perhaps  suggested  by  an  apprehension  that  our 
author's  remains  might  share  the  same  fate  with  those  of  the 
rest  of  his  countrymen,  and  be  added  to  the  immense  pile  of 
human  bones  deposited  in  the  charnel-house  at  Stratford.  This, 
however,  is  mere  conjecture;  for  similar  execrations  are  found 
in  many  ancient  Latin  epitaphs. 

Mr.  Steevens  hast  justly  mentioned  it  as  a  singular  circum- 
stance, that  Shakspeare  does  not  appear  to  have  written  any 
verses  on  his  contemporaries,  either  in  praise  of  the  living,  or  in 
honour  of  the  dead.  I  once  imagined  that  he -had  mentioned 
Spenser  with  kindness  in  one  of  his  Sonnets ;  but  have  lately 
discovered  that  the  Sonnet  to  which  I  allude,  was  written  by 
Richard  Barnefield.  If,  however,  the  following  epitaphs  be  ge- 
nuine, (and  indeed  the  latter  is  much  in  Shakspeare's  manner,) 
he  in  two  instances  overcame  that  modest  diffidence,  which 
seems  to  have  supposed  the  elogium  of  his  humble  muse  of  no 
value. 

In  a  Manuscript  volume  of  poems  by  William  Herrick  and 
others,  in  the  hand-writing  of  the  time  of  Charles  I.  which  is 
among  Rawlinson's  Collections  in  the  Bodleian  Library,  is  the 
following  epitaph,  ascribed  to  our  poet : 

"  AN    EPITAPH. 

"  When  God  was  pleas'd,  the  world  unwilling  yet, 

"  Elias  James  to  nature  payd  his  debt, 

"  And  here  reposeth  :  as  he  liv'd,  he  dyde ;  r 

"  The  saying  in  him  strongly  verifide, — 

"  Such  life,  such  death  :  then,  the  known  truth  to  tell, 

"He  liv'd  a  godly  life,  and  dyde  as  well. 

«  WM.  SHAKSPEARE." 
There  was  formerly  a  family  of  the  surname  of  James  at  Strat- 
ford.   Anne,  the  wife  of  Richard  James,  was  buried  there  on  the 
same  day  with  our  poet's  widow ;  and  Margaret,  the  daughter 
of  John  James,  died  there  in  April,  1616. 

A  monumental  inscription  "  of  a  better  leer,"  and  said  to  be 
written  by  our  author,  is  preserved  in  a  collection  of  Epitaphs, 
at  the  end  of  the  Visitation  of  Salop,  taken  by  Sir  William  Dug- 
dale  in  the  year  1664,  now  remaining  in  the  College  of  Arms, 
C.  35,  fol.  20;  a  transcript  of  which  Sir  Isaac  Heard,  Garter, 
Principal  King  at  Arms,  has  obligingly  transmitted  to  me. 

Among  the  monuments  in  Tongue  church,  in  the  county  of 
Salop,  is  one  erected  in  remembrance  of  Sir  Thomas  Stanley, 
Knight,  who  died,  as  I  imagine,  about  the  year  1600.  In  the 
Visitation-book  it  is  thus  described  by  SirjWilliam  Dugdale: 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         91 

"  On  the  north  side  of  the  chancell  stands  a  very  stately  torabe, 
supported  with  Corinthian  cohirnnes.  It  hath  two  figures  of 
men  in  armour,  thereon  lying,  the  one  below  the  arches  and 
columnes,  and  the  other  above  them,  and  this  epitaph  upon  it. 

"  Thomas  Stanley,  Knight,  second  son  of  Edward  Earle  of 
Derby,  Lord  Stanley,  and  Strange,  descended  from  the  famielie 
of  the  Stanleys,  married  Margaret  Vernon,  one  of  the  daughters 
and  co-heires  of  Sir  George  Vernon  of  Nether-Haddon,  in  the 
county  of  Derby,  Knight,  by  whom  he  had  issue  two  sons, 
Henry  and  Edward.  Henry  died  an  infant ;  Edward  survived, 
to  whom  those  lordships  descended ;  and  married  the  lady  Lucie 
Percie,  second  daughter  of  the  Earle  of  Northumberland :  by 
her  he  had  issue  seven  daughters.  She  and  her  ibure  daughters, 
Arabella,  Marie,  Alice,  and  Priscilla,  are  interred  under  a  mo- 
nument in  the  church  of  Walthain  in  the  county  of  Essex. 
Thomas,  her  son,  died  in  his  infancy,  and  is  buried  in  the  parish 
church  of  Winwich  in  the  county  of  Lancaster.  The  other 
three,  Petronilla,  Frances,  and  Venesia,  are  yet  lining. 

The«c  following  verses  were  made  by  William  Shakespeare, 
the  late  famous  tragedian ; 

"  Written  upon  the  east  end  of  this  tombe. 

"  A»ke  who  lyes  here,  but  do  not  weepe ; 

"  He  is  not  dead,  he  doth  but  sleepe. 

"  This  stony  register  is  for  his  bones, 

"  His  fame  is  more  perpetual  than  these  stones : 

"  And  his  own  goodness,  with  himself  being  gone, 

"  Shall  live,  when  earthly  monument  is  none." 

"  Written  upon  the  west  end  thereof. 

'*  Not  monumental  stone  preserves  our  fame, 

"  Nor  skye-aspiring  pyramids  our  name. 

"  The  memory  of  him  for  whom  this  stands, 

"  Shall  out-live  marble,  and  defacers'  hands. 

M  When  all  to  time's  consumption  shall  be  given, 

"  Stanley,  for  whom  this  stands,  shall  stand  in  heaven." 

The  last  line  of  this  epitaph,  though  the  worst,  bears  very 
strong  marks  of  the  hand  of  Shakspeare.  The  bcgiiuiing  of  the 
first  Tine,  "  Aske  who  lyes  here,"  reminds  us  of  that  which  we 
have  been  just  examining :  "  If  any  man  ask,  who  lies  in  this 
tomb*'  &c. — And  in  the  fifth  line  we  find  a  thought  which  our 
poet  has  also  introduced  in  King  Henry  VIII: 

**  Ever  belov'd  and  loving  may  his  rule  be  ! 

"  And,  when  old  time  shall  lead  him  to  his  gravo, 

"  Goodness  and  he  Jill  up  one  monument .'" 


92  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

He  had  three  daughters,5  of  which  two  lived  to 
be  married;  Judith,  the  elder,  to  one  Mr.  Thomas 
Quiney,6  by  whom  she  had  three  sons,  who  all  died 

This  epitaph  must  have  been  written  after  the  year  1600, 
for  Venetia  Stanley,  who  afterwards  was  the  wife  of  Sir  Kenelm 
Digby,  was  born  in  that  year.  With  a  view  to  ascertain  its  date 
more  precisely,  the  churches  of  Great  and  Little  Waltham  have 
been  examined  for  the  monument  said  to  have  been  erected  to 
Lady  Lucy  Stanley  and  her  four  daughters,  but  in  vain ;  for 
no  trace  of  it  remains :  nor  could  the  time  of  their  respective 
deaths  be  ascertained,  the  registers  of  those  parishes  being  lost. — 
Sir  William  Dugdale  was  born  in  Warwickshire,  was  bred  at  the 
free-school  of  Coventry,  and  in  the  year  1625  purchased  the 
manor  of  Blythe  in  that  county,  where  he  then  settled  and  after- 
wards spent  a  great  part  of  his  life:  so  that  his  testimony  respect- 
ing this  epitaph  is  sufficient  to  ascertain  its  authenticity. 

Malone. 

*  He  had  three  daughters,']  In  this  circumstance  Mr.  Rowe 
must  have  been  mis-informed.  In  the  Register  of  Stratford,  no 
mention  is  made  of  any  daughter  of  our  author's  but  Susanna 
and  Judith.  He  had  indeed  three  children;  the  two  already 
mentioned,  and  a  son,  named  Hamnet,  of  whom  Mr.  Rowe 
takes  no  notice  He  was  a  twin  child,  born  at  the  same  time 
with  Judith.  Hence  probably  the  mistake.  He  died  in  the 
twelfth  year  of  his  age,  in  1596.    Malone. 

6  -  Judith,  the  elder,  to  one  Mr.  Thomas  Quiney, ~]  This 
also  is  a  mistake.  Judith  was  Shakspeare's  youngest  daughter. 
She  died  at  Stratford-upon-Avon  a  few  days  after  she  had  com- 
pleted her  seventy-seventh  year,  and  was  buried  there,  Feb.  Q, 
1661-62.  She  was  married  to  Mr.  Quiney,  who  was  four  years 
younger  than  herself,  on  the  10th  of  February,  1615-16,  and  not 
as  Mr.  West  supposed,  in  the  year  1616-17.  He  was  led  into 
the  mistake  by  the  figures  1616  standing  nearly  opposite  to  the 
entry  concerning  her  marriage  ;  but  those  figures  relate  to  the 
first  entry  in  the  subsequent  month  of  April.  The  Register  ap- 
pears thus: 
February.- 

3.  Francis  Bushill  to  Isabel  Whood. 
1616      5*  ^'cn*  Sandellsto  Joan  Ballamy. 

10.  Tho.  Queeny  to  Judith  Shakspere. 
April.. 

14.  Will.  Borowes  to  Margaret  Da  vies, 
and  all  the  following  entries  in  that  and  a  part  of  the  ensuing  page 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         93 

without  children ;  and  Susanna,  who  was  his  fa- 
vourite, to  Dr.  John  Hall,  a  physician  of  good  re- 
putation in  that  country.7   She  left  one  child  only, 

are  of  \6l6;  the  year  then  beginning  on  the  25th  of  March. 
Whether  the  above  lo  relates  to  the  month  of  February  or  April, 
Judith  was  certainly  married  before  her  father's  death :  if  it  re- 
lates to  February,  she  was  married  on  February  10,  l6l5-l6; 
if  to  April,  on  the  10th  of  April  1616.  From  Shakspeare's  will 
it  appears,  that  this  match  was  a  stolen  one ;  for  he  speaks  of 
such  future  "husband  as  she  shall  be  married  to."  It  is  strange 
that  the  ceremony  should  have  been  publickly  celebrated  in  the 
church  of  Stratford  without  his  knowledge ;  and  the  improba- 
bility of  such  a  circumstance  might  lead  us  to  suppose  that  she 
was  married  on  the  10th  of  April,  about  a  fortnight  after  the 
execution  of  her  father's  will.  But  the  entry  of  the  baptism  of 
her  first  child,  (Nov.  23,  1 6 1 6, )  as  well  as  the  entry  of  the  mar- 
riage, ascertain  it  to  have  taken  place  in  February. 

Mr.  West,  without  intending  it,  has  impeached  the  character 
of  this  lady;  for  her  first  child,  according  to  his  representation, 
must  be  supposed  to  have  been  born  some  months  before  her 
marriage;  since  among  the  Baptisms  1  find  this  entry  of  the 
christening  of  her  eldest  son:  "  l6l6.  Nov.  23.  Shakspeare, 
filius  Thomas  Quiney,  Gent."  and  according  to  Mr.  West  she 
was  not  married  till  the  following  February.  This  Shakspeare 
Quiney  died  in  his  infancy  at  Stratford,  and  was  buried  May  bth, 
I617.  Judith's  second  son,  Richard,  was  baptized  on  February 
yth,  J  617- 18.  He  died  at  Stratford  in  Feb.  1638-9,  in  the  21st 
year  of  his  age,  and  was  buried  there  on  the  20th  of  that  month. 
Her  third  son,  Thomas,  was  baptized  August  29,  l6l.Q,  and  was 
buried  also  at  Stratford,  January  28,  1638-9.  There  had  been 
a  plague  in  the  town  in  the  preceding  summer,  that  carried  off 
about  fifty  persons.     Ma  lone. 

7  Dr.  John  Hall,  a  physician  of  good  reputation  in  that  coun- 
try.,]  Susanna's  husband,  Dr.  John  Hall,  died  in  Nov.  1035, 
and  is  interred  in  the  chancel  of  the  church  of  Stratford  near  his 
wife.  He  was  buried  on  the  26th  of  November,  as  appears  from 
the  Register  of  burials  at  Stratford: 

••  November  26,  1635,  Johannes  Hall,  medieu*  peritissimus." 

The  following  is  a  transcript  of  his  will,  extracted  from  the 
Register  of  the  Prerogative  Court  of  Canterbury  : 

"  The  last  Will  and  Testament  nuncupative  of  John  Hall  of 
Stratford-upon-Avon  in  the  county  of  Warwick,  Gent,  made 
and  declared  the  five  and  twentieth  of  November,  1035.     Im- 


94    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

primts,  I  give  unto  my  wife  my  house  in  London.  Item,  1 
give  unto  my  daughter  Nash  my  house  in  Acton.  Item,  I  give 
unto  my  daughter  Nash  my  meadow.  Item,  I  give  my  goods 
and  money  unto  my  wife  and  my  daughter  Nash,  to  be  equally 
divided  betwixt  them.  Item,  concerning  my  study  of  books,  1 
leave  them,  said  he,  to  you,  my  son  Nash,  to  dispose  of  them  as 
you  see  good.  As  for  my  manuscripts,  I  would  have  given  them 
to  Mr.  Boles,  if  he  had  been  here ;  but  forasmuch  as  he  is  not 
here  present,  you  may,  son  Nash,  burn  them,  or  do  with  them 
what  you  please.     Witnesses  hereunto, 

"  Thomas  Nash. 
V  Simon  Trapp." 

The  testator  not  having  appointed  any  executor,  administra- 
tion was  granted  to  his  widow,  Nov.  23,  1036. 

Some  at  least  of  Dr.  Hall's  manuscripts  escaped  the  flames, 
one  of  them  being  yet  extant.     See  p.  83,  n.  1 . 

I  could  not,  after  a  very  careful  search,  find  the  will  of  Susanna 
Hall  in  the  Prerogative- office,  nor  is  it  preserved  in  the  Archives 
of  the  diocese  of  Worcester,  the  Registrar  of  which  diocese  at 
my  request  very  obligingly  examined  the  indexes  of  all  the  wills 
proved  in  his  office  between  the  years  1649  and  16/0;  but  in 
vain.     The  town  of  Stratford-upon-Avon  is  in  that  diocese. 

The  inscriptions  on  the  tomb-stones  of  our  poet's  favourite 
daughter  and  her  husband  are  as  follows : 

"  Here  lyeth  the  body  of  John  Hall,  Gent,  he  marr.  Susanna, 
ye  daughter  and  co-heire  of  Will.  Shakspeare,  Gent,  he  deceased 
Nov.  2.5,  A0.  1635,  aged  60." 

"  Hallius  hie  situs  est,  medica  celeberrimus  arte, 

"  Expectans  regni  gaudia  laeta  Dei. 
**  Dignus  erat  mentis  qui  Nestora  vinceret  annis; 

"  In  terris  omnes  sed  rapit  a?qua  dies. 
"  Ne  tumulo  quid  desit,  adest  fidissima  conjux, 

"  Et  vitae  comitem  nunc  quoque  mortis  habet." 

These  verses  should  seem,  from  the  last  two  lines,  not  to  have 
been  inscribed  on  Dr.  Hall's  tomb-stone  till  16&Q.  Perhaps  in- 
deed the  last  distich  only  was  then  added. 

"Here  lyeth  the  body  of  Susanna,  wife  to  John  Hall,  Genu 
yc  daughter  of  William  Shakspeare,  Gent.  She  deceased  the 
11th  of  July,  A".  1649,  aged  0'6." 

"  Witty  above  her  sexe,  but  that's  not  all, 
"  Wise  to  salvation  was  good  Mistriss  Hall. 
"  Something  of  Shakspeare  was  in  that,  but  this 
"  Wholy  of  him  with  whom  she's  now  in  blisse. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         95 

a  daughter,who  was  married  first  to  Thomas  Nashe,8 


•*  Then,  passenger,  hast  ne're  a  teare, 
"  To  weepe  with  her  that  wept  with  all : 

."  That  wept,  yet  set  her  selfe  to  chere 
"  Them  up  with  comforts  cordiall. 

"  Her  love  shall  live,  her  mercy  spread, 
"  When  thou  hast  ne're  a  teare  to  shed." 

The  foregoing  English  verses,  which  are  preserved  by  Dug- 
dale,  are  not  now  remaining,  half  of  the  tomb-stone  having  been 
cut  away,  and  another  half  stone  joined  to  it;  with  the  follow- 
ing inscription  on  it — "  Here  lyeth  the  body  of  Richard  Watts 
of  Ryhon-Clifford,  in  the  parish  of  old  Stratford,  Gent,  who 
departed  this  life  the  23d  of  May,  Anno  Dom.  1 707*  and  in 
the  4t>th  year  of  his  age."  This  Mr.  Watts,  as  I  am  informed 
by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Davenport,  was  owner  of,  and  lived  at  the 
estate  of  Ryhon-Clifford,  which  was  once  the  property  of  Dr. 
Hall. 

Mrs.  Hall  was  buried  on  the  l6th  of  July,  1649,  as  appears 
from  the  Register  of  Stratford.    Ma  lone. 

'  She  left  one  child  only,  a  daughter,  who  was  married  first 
to  Thomas  Nashe,  Esq.]  Elizabeth,  our  poet's  grand-daughter, 
who  appears  to  have  been  a  favourite,  Shakspcare  having  left  her 
by  his  will  a  memorial  of  his  affection,  though  she  at  that  time 
was  but  eight  years  old,  was  born  in  February  1607-8,  as  ap- 
pears by  an  entry  in  the  Register  of  Stratford,  which  Mr.  West 
omitted  in  the  transcript  with  which  he  furnished  Mr.  Steevens. 
I  learn  from  the  same  Register  that  she  was  married  in  1626 : 
"  Marriaoes.  April  22,  1626,  Mr.  Thomas  Nash  to  Mistriss 
Elizabeth  Hall."  It  should  be  remembered  that  every  unmarried 
lady  was  called  Mistress  till  the  time  of  George  I.  Hence  our 
author's  Mistress  Anne  Page.  Nor  in  speaking  of  an  unmarried 
lady  could  her  christian  name  be  omitted,  as  it  often  is  at  pre- 
sent ;  for  then  no  distinction  would  have  remained  between  her 
and  her  mother.  Some  married  ladies  indeed  were  distinguished 
from  their  daughters  by  the  title  of  Madam. 

Mr.  Nash  died  in  1(547,  as  appears  by  the  inscription  on  his 
tomb-stone  in  the  chancel  of  the  church  of  Stratford  : 

*•  Here  resteth  yc  body  of  Thomas  Nashe,  Esq.  He  mar.  Eli- 
zabeth the  daugh.  and  heire  of  John  Hall,  Gent.  He  died  April 
5th,  A".  1647,  aged  53." 


9o    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

Esq.  and  afterwards  to  Sir  John  Barnard  of  Abing- 
ton,9  but  died  likewise  without  issue.1 


"  Fata  manent  omnes ;  hunc  non  virtute  carentem, 

"  Ut  neque  divitiis,  abstulit  atra  dies. 
"  Abstulit,  at  referet  lux  ultima.     Siste,  viator  ; 

"  Si  peritura  paras,  per  male  parta  peris." 

The  letters  printed  in  Italicks  are  now  obliterated. 

By  his  last  will,  which  is  in  the  Prerogative-Office,  dated  Au- 
gust 26,  1642,  he  bequeathed  to  his  well  beloved  wife,  Eliza- 
beth Nash,  and  her  assigns,  for  her  life,  (in  lieu  of  jointure  and 
thirds,)  one  messuage  or  tenement,  with  the  appurtenances, 
situate  in  the  Chapel  Street  in  Stratford,  then  in  the  tenure  and 
occupation  of  Joan  Norman,  widow ;  one  meadow,  known  by 
the  name  of  the  Square  Meadow,  with  the  appurtenances,  in 
the  parish  of  old  Stratford,  lying  near  unto  the  great  stone-bridge 
of  Stratford ;  one  other  meadow  with  the  appurtenances,  known 
by  the  name  of  the  Wash  Meadow ;  one  little  meadow  with  the 
appurtenances,  adjoining  to  the  said  Wash  Meadow ;  and  also 
all  the  tythes  of  the  manor  or  lordship  of  Shottery.  He  devises 
to  his  kinsman  Edward  Nash,  the  son  of  his  uncle  George  Nash 
of  London,  his  heirs  and  assigns,  (inter  alia  J  the  messuage  or 
tenement,  then  in  his  own  occupation,  called  The  New-Place, 
situate  in  the  Chapel  Street,  in  Stratford ;  together  with  all  and 
singular  houses,  outhouses,  barns,  stables,  orchards,  gardens, 
easements,  profits,  or  commodities,  to  the  same  belonging ;  and 
also  four-yard  land  of  arable  land,  meadow,  and  pasture,  with 
the  appurtenances,  lying  and  being  in  the  common  fields  of  Old 
Stratford,  with  all  the  easements,  profits,  commons,  commodi- 
ties, and  hereditaments,  of  the  same  four-yard  lands  belonging ; 
then  in  the  tenure,  use,  and  occupation  of  him  the  said  Thomas 
Nash ;  and  one  other  messuage  or  tenement,  with  the  appurte- 
nances, situate  in  the  parish  of ,  in  London,  and  called  or 

known  by  the  name  of  The  Wardrobe,  and  then  in  the  tenure, 

use,  and  occupation  of Dickes.     And  from  and  after  the 

death  of  his  said  wife,  he  bequeaths  the  meadows  above  named, 
and  devised  to  her  for  life,  to  his  said  cousin  Edward  Nash,  his 
heirs  and  assigns  for  ever.  After  various  other  bequests,  he  di- 
rects that  one  hundred  pounds,  at  the  least,  be  laid  out  in 
mourning  gowns,  cloaks,  and  apparel,  to  be  distributed  among 
his  kindred  and  friends,  in  such  manner  as  his  executrix  shall 
think  fit.  He  appoints  his  wife  Elizabeth  Nash  his  residuary 
legatee,  and  sole  executrix,  and  ordains  Edmund  Rawlins,  Wil- 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         97 
This  is  what  I  could  learn  of  any  note,  either 


liam  Smith,  and  John  Easton,  overseers  of  his  will,  to  which 
the  witnesses  are  John  Such,  Michael  Jonson,  and  Samuel 
Rawlins. 

By  a  nuncupative  codicil  dated  on  the  day  of  his  death,  April 
4th,  1647,  he  bequeaths  [inter  alia)  "to  his  mother  Mrs.  Hall 
fifty  pounds ;  to  Elizabeth  Hathaway  fifty  pounds ;  to  Thomas 
Hathaway  fifty  pounds ;  to  Judith  Hathaway  ten  pounds ;  to 
his  uncle  Nash  and  his  aunt,  his  cousin  Sadler  and  his  wife,  his 
cousin  Richard  Quiney  and  his  wife,  his  cousin  Thomas  Quiney 
and  his  wife,  twenty  shillings  each,  to  buy  them  rings."  The 
meadows  which  by  his  will  he  had  devised,  to  his  wife  for  life, 
he  by  this  codicil  devises  to  her,  her  heirs  and  assigns,  for  ever, 
to  the  end  that  they  may  not  be  severed  from  her  own  land ; 
and  he  "  appoints  and  declares  that  the  inheritance  of  his  land 
given  to  his  cousin  Edward  Nash  should  be  by  him  settled  after 
his  decease,  upon  his  son  Thomas  Nash,  and  his  heirs,  and  for 
want  of  such  heirs  then  to  remain  and  descend  to  his  own  right 
heirs." 

It  is  observable  that  in  this  will  the  testator  makes  no  mention 
of  any  child,  and  there  is  no  entry  of  any  issue  of  his  marriage 
in  the  Register  of  Stratford ;  I  have  no  doubt,  therefore,  that  he 
died  without  issue,  and  that  a  pedigree  with  which  Mr.  Whalley 
furnished  Mr.  Steevens  a  few  years  ago,  is  inaccurate.  The 
origin  of  the  mistake  in  that  pedigree  will  be  pointed  out  in  its 
proper  place. 

As  by  Shakspeare's  will  his  daughter  Susanna  had  an  estate 
for  life  in  The  New  Place,  &c.  and  his  grand-daughter  Elizabeth 
an  estate  tail  in  remainder,  they  probably  on  the  marriage  of 
Elizabeth  to  Mr.  Nash,  by  a  fine  and  recovery  cut  off  the  en- 
tail ;  and  by  a  deed  to  lead  the  uses  gave  him  the  entire  domi- 
nion over  that  estate ;  which  he  appears  to  have  misused  by 
devising  it  from  Shakspeare's  family  to  his  own. 

Mr.  Nash's  will  and  codicil  were  proved  June  5,  1647,  and 
administration  was  then  granted  to  his  widow.     Malone. 

9 .Sir  John  Barnard  of  Abington,]    Sir  .John  Barnard  of 

Abington,  a  small  village  about  a  mile  from  the  town  of  North- 
ampton, was  created  a  Knight  by  King  Cliarles  II.  Nov.  25, 
1661.  In  1671  he  sold  the  manor  and  advowson  of  the  church 
of  Abington,  which  his  ancestors  had  possessed  for  more  than 
two  hundred  years,  to  William Thursby,  Esq.  Sir  John  Barnard 
was  the  eldest  son  of  Baldwin  Barnard,  Esq.  by  FJeanor,  daugh- 
ter and  co-heir  of  John  Fulwood  of  Ford  Hall  in  the  county  of 

VOL.  I.  H 


98    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

relating  to  himself  or  family;  the  character  of  the 
man  is  best  seen  in  his  writings.     But  since  Ben 

Warwick,  Esq.  and  was  born  in  1605.  He  first  married  Eliza- 
beth, the  daughter  of  Sir  Clement  Edmonds  of  Preston,  in  North- 
amptonshire, by  whom  he  had  four  sons  and  four  daughters. 
She  dying  in  1642,  he  married  secondly  our  poet's  grand-daugh- 
ter, Mrs.  Elizabeth  Nash,  on  the  5th  of  June  ]  649,  at  Billesley 
in  Warwickshire,  about  three  miles  from  Stratford-upon-Avon. 
If  any  of  Shakspeare's  manuscripts  remained  in  his  grand-daugh- 
ter's custody  at  the  time  of  her  second  marriage,  (and  some 
letters  at  least  she  surely  must  have  had,)  they  probably  were 
then  removed  to  the  house  of  her  new  husband  at  Abington.  Sir 
Hugh  Clopton,  who  was  born  two  years  after  her  death,  men- 
tioned to  Mr.  Macklin,  in  the  year  1742,  an  old  tradition  that 
she  had  carried  away  with  her  from  Stratford  many  of  her  grand- 
father's papers.  On  the  death  of  Sir  John  Barnard  they  must 
have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Edward  Bagley,  Lady  Barnard's 
executor;  and  if  any  descendant  of  that  gentleman  be  now 
living,  in  his  custody  they  probably  remain.     Malone. 

1 but  died  lifcetoise  xuithout  issue.']      Confiding  in  a  pedi- 

free  transmitted  by  Mr.Whalley  some  years  ago  to  Mr.  Steevens, 
once  supposed  that  Mr.  Rowe  was  inaccurate  in  saying  that  our 
poet's  grand-daughter  died  without  issue.  But  he  was  certainly 
right ;  and  this  lady  was  undoubtedly  the  last  lineal  descendant 
of  Shakspeare.  There  is  no  entry,  as  I  have  already  observed, 
in  the  Register  of  Stratford,  of  any  issue  of  hers  by  Mr.  Nash ; 
nor  does  he  in  his  will  mention  any  child,  devising  the  greater 
part  of  his  property  between  his  wife  and  his  kinsman,  Edward 
Nash*  That  Lady  Barnard  had  no  issue  by  her  second  husband, 
is  proved  by  the  Register  of  Abington,  in  which  there  is  no  entry 
of  the  baptism  of  any  child  of  that  marriage,  though  there  are 
regular  entries  of  the  time  when  the  several  children  of  Sir  John 
Barnard  by  his  first  wife  were  baptized.  Lady  Barnard  died 
at  Abington,  and  was  buried  there  on  the  17th  of  February 
1669-70 ;  but  her  husband  did  not  show  his  respect  for  her  me- 
mory by  a  monument,  or  even  an  inscription  of  any  kind.  He 
seems  not  to  have  been  sensible  of  the  honourable  alliance  he  had 
made.  Shakspeare's  grand-daughter  would  not,  at  this  day,  go 
to  her  grave  without  a  memorial.  By  her  last  will,  which  I  sub- 
join, she  directs  her  trustee  to  sell  her  estate  of  Neva-Place,  &c. 
to  the  best  bidder,  and  to  offer  it  first  to  her  cousin  Mr.  Edward 
Nash.  How  she  then  came  to  have  any  property  in  New-Place, 
which  her  first  husband  had  devised  to  this  very  Edward  Nash, 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.         99 

Jonson  has  made  a  sort  of  an  essay  towards  it  in 
his  Discoveries,  I  will  give  it  in  his  words : 


does  not  appear ;  but  I  suppose  that  after  the  death  of  Mr. 
Thomas  Nash  she  exchanged  the  patrimonial  lands  which  he 
bequeathed  to  her,  with  Edward  Nash  and  his  son,  and  took 
New-Place,  &c.  instead  of  them. 

Sir  John  Barnard  died  at  Abington,  and  was  buried  there  on 
March  5th,  1673-4.  On  his  tomb-stone,  in  the  chancel  of  the 
church,  is  the  following  inscription  : 

Hicjacent  exuvice  generosissimi  viri  Johannis  Bernard,  militis; 
patre,  avo,  abavo,  tritavo,  aliisque  progenitoribus  per  ducentos 
et  amplius  annos  hujus  oppidi  de  Abingdon  dominis,  insignis: 
quijato  cessit  undeseptuagessimo  cetatis  suae  anno,  quinto  nonat 
Mariiiy  annoque  a  partu  B.  Virginis,  MDCLXXIII. 

Sir  John  Barnard  having  made  no  will,  administration  of  his 
effects  was  granted  on  the  7th  of  November  1674,  to  Henry 
Gilbert  of  Locko  in  the  county  of  Derby,  who  had  married  his 
daughter  Elizabeth  by  his  first  wife,  and  to  his  two  other  sur- 
viving daughters ;  Mary  Higgs,  widow  of  Thomas  Higgs  of 
Colesborne,  Esq.  and  Eleanor  Cotton,  the  wife  of  Samuel  Cot- 
ton, Esq.  All  Sir  John  Barnard's  other  children  except  the  three 
above  mentioned  died  without  issue.  I  know  not  whether  any 
descendant  of  these  be  now  living :  but  if  that  should  be  the  case, 
among  their  papers  may  possibly  be  found  some  fragment  or 
other  relative  to  Shakspeare;  for  by  his  grand-daughter's  order, 
the  administrators  of  her  husband  were  entitled  to  keep  posses- 
sion of  her  house,  &c.  in  Stratford,  for  six  months  after  his  death. 

The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  will  of  this  last  descendant  of 
our  poet,  extracted  from  the  Registry  of  the  Prerogative  Court 
of  Canterbury: 

"  In  the  Name  of  God,  Amen.  I  Dame  Elizabeth  Barnard, 
wife  of  Sir  John  Barnard  of  Abington  in  the  county  of  North- 
ampton, knight,  being  in  perfect  memory,  (blessed  be  God!) 
and  mindful  of  mortality,  do  make  this  my  last  will  and  testa- 
ment in  manner  and  form  following : 

*4  Whereas  by  my  certain  deed  or  writing  under  my  hand  and 
seal,  dated  on  or  about  the  eighteenth  day  of  April,  \65i,  ac- 
cording to  a  power  therein  mentioned,  I  the  said  Elizabeth  have 
limited  and  disposed  of  all  that  my  messuage  with  the  appurte- 
nances in  Stratford-upon-Avon,  in  the  county  of  Warwick,  called 
the  New  Place,  and  all  that  four-yard  land  and  an  half  in  Strat- 
ford-Welcombe  and  Bishopton  in  the  county  of  Warwick,  (after 
the  decease  of  the  said  Sir  John  Barnard,  and  me  the  said  Eliz*- 

II  2 


100   SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

"  I  remember  the  players  have  often  mentioned 
m  it  as  an  honour  to  Shakspeare,  that  in  writing 

beth, )  unto  Henry  Smith  of  Stratford  aforesaid,  Gent,  and  Job 
Dighton  of  the  Middle  Temple,  London,  Esq.  since  deceased, 
and  their  heirs ;  upon  trust  that  they,  and  the  survivor,  and  the 
heirs  of  such  survivor,  should  bargain  and  sell  the  same  for  the 
best  value  they  can  get,  and  the  money  thereby  to  be  raised  to 
be  employed  and  disposed  of  to  such  person  and  persons,  and  in 
such  manner  as  I  the  said  Elizabeth  should  by  any  writing  or 
note  under  my  hand,  truly  testified,  declare  and  nominate  ;  as 
thereby  may  more  fully  appear.  Now  my  will  is,  and  I  do  here- 
by signify  and  declare  my  mind  and  meaning  to  be,  that  the  said 
Henry  Smith,  my  surviving  trustee,  or  his  heirs,  shall  with  all 
convenient  speed  after  the  decease  of  the  said  Sir  John  Barnard 
my  husband,  make  sale  of  the  inheritance  of  all  and  singular  the 
premises,  and  that  my  loving  cousin  Edward  Nash,  Esq.  shall 
have  the  first  offer  or  refusal  thereof,  according  to  my  promise 
formerly  made  to  him  :  and  the  monies  to  be  raised  by  such  sale 
I  do  give,  dispose  of,  and  appoint  the  same  to  be  paid  and  distri- 
buted, as  is  herein  after  expressed ;  that  is  to  say,  to  my  cousin 
Thomas  Welles  of  Carleton,  in  the  county  of  Bedford,  Gent, 
the  sum  of  fifty  pounds,  to  be  paid  him  within  one  year  next 
after  such  sale :  and  if  the  said  Thomas  Wells  shall  happen  to 
die  before  such  time  as  his  said  legacy  shall  become  due  to  him, 
then  my  desire  is,  that  my  kinsman  Edward  Bagley,  citizen  of 
London,  shall  have  the  sole  benefit  thereof. 

"  Item,  I  do  give  and  appoint  unto  Judith  Hathaway,  one  of 
the  daughters  of  my  kinsman  Thomas  Hathaway,  late  of  Strat- 
ford aforesaid,  the  annual  sum  of  five  pounds  of  lawful  money 
of  England,  to  be  'paid  unto  her  yearly  and  every  year,  from 
and  after  the  decease  of  the  said  survivor  of  the  said  Sir  John 
Barnard  and  me  the  said  Elizabeth,  for  and  during  the  natural 
life  of  her  the  said  Judith,  at  the  two  most  usual  feasts  or  days 
of  payment  in  the  year,  videlicet,  the  feast  of  the  Annunciation 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary,  and  Saint  Michael,  the  archangel, 
by  equal  portions,  the  first  payment  thereof  to  begin  at  such  of 
the  said  feasts  as  shall  next  happen,  after  the  decease  of  the  sur- 
vivor of  the  said  Sir  John  Barnard  and  me  the  said  Elizabeth, 
if  the  said  premises  can  be  so  soon  sold ;  or  otherwise  so  soon  as 
the  same  can  be  sold :  and  if  the  said  Judith  shall  happen  to 
marry,  and  shall  be  minded  to  release  the  said  annual  sum  of 
five  pounds,  and  shall  accordingly  release  and  quit  all  her  in- 
terest and  right  in  and  to  the  same  after  it  shall  become  due  to 
her,  then  and  in  such  case,  I  do  give  and  appoint  to  her  the  sum 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       101 

"  (whatsoever  he  penned)  he  never  blotted  out  a 

of  forty  pounds  in  lieu  thereof,  to  be  paid  unto  her  at  the  time 
of  the  executing  of  such  release  as  afortsaid. 

"  Item,  1  give  and  appoint  unto  Joan  the  wife  of  Edward  Kent, 
and  one  other  of  the  daughters  of  the  said  Thomas  Hathaway, 
the  sum  of  fifty  pounds,  to  be  likewise  paid  unto  her  within  one 
year  next  after  the  decease  of  the  survivor  of  the  said  Sir  John 
Barnard  and  me  the  said  Elizabeth,  if  the  said  premises  can  be 
soon  sold,  or  otherwise  so  soon  as  the  same  can  be  sold  ;  and  if 
the  said  Joan  shall  happen  to  die  before  the  6aid  fifty  pounds 
shall  be  paid  to  her,  then  I  do  give  and  appoint  the  same  unto 
Edward  Kent  the  younger,  her  son,  to  be  paid  unto  him  when 
he  shall  attain  the  age  of  one-and-twenty  years. 

"  Item,  I  do  also  give  and  appoint  unto  him  the  said  Edward 
Kent,  son  of  the  said  John,  the  sum  of  thirty  pounds,  towards 
putting  him  out  as  an  apprentice,  and  to  be  paid  and  disposed  of 
to  that  use  when  he  shall  be  fit  for  it. 

"  Item,  I  do  give  or  appoint  and  dispose  of  unto  Rose,  Eliza- 
beth, and  Susanna,  three  other  of  the  daughters  of  my  said 
kinsman  Thomas  Hathaway,  the  sum  of  forty  pounds  a-piece, 
to  be  paid  unto  every  of  them  at  such  time  and  in  such  manner 
as  the  said  fifty  pounds  before  appointed  to  the  said  Joan  Kent, 
their  sister,  shall  become  payable. 

"  Item,  All  the  rest  of  the  monies  that  shall  be  raised  by  such 
sale  as  aforesaid,  I  give  and  dispose  of  unto  my  said  kinsman 
Edward  Bagley,  except  five  pounds  only,  which  I  give  and  ap- 
point to  my  said  trustee  Henry  Smith  for  his  pains ;  and  if  the 
said  Edward  Nash  shall  refuse  the  purchase  of  the  said  messuage 
and  four-yard  land  and  a  half  with  the  appurtenances,  then  my 
will  and  desire  is,  that  the  said  Henry  Smith  or  his  heirs  shall  sell 
the  inheritance  of  the  said  premises  and  every  part  thereof  unto 
the  said  Edward  Bagley,  and  that  he  shall  purchase  the  same ; 
upon  this  condition,  nevertheless,  that  he  the  said  Edward 
Bagley,  his  heirs,  executors,  or  administrators,  shall  justly  and 
faithfully  perform  my  will  and  true  meaning,  in  making  due 
payment  of  all  the  several  sums  of  money  or  legacies  before 
mentioned,  in  such  manner  as  aforesaid,  And  I  do  hereby  de- 
clare my  will  and  meaning  to  be  that  the  executors  or  adminis- 
trators of  my  said  husband  Sir  John  Barnard  shall  have  and  enjoy 
the  use  and  benefit  of  my  said  house  in  Stratford,  called  the 
New-Place,  with  the  orchards,  gardens,  and  all  other  the  appur- 
tenances thereto  belonging,  for  and  during  the  space  of  six 
months  next  after  the  decease  of  him  the  said  Sir  John  Barnard. 

"  I  tun,  I  give  and  devise  unto  my  kinsman,  Thomas  Hart,  the 


102    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 
**  line.2  My  answer  hath  been,  Would  he  had  blotted 

son  of  Thomas  Hart,  late  of  Stratford-upon-Avon  aforesaid,  all 
that  my  other  messuage  or  inn  situate  in  Stratford-upon-Avon 
aforesaid,  commonly  called  the  Maidenhead,  with  the  appurte- 
nances, and  the  next  house  thereunto  adjoining,  with  the  barn 
belonging  to  the  same,  now  or  late  in  the  occupation  of  Michael 
Johnson  or  his  assigns,  with  all  and  singular  the  appurtenances ; 
to  hold  to  him  the  said  Thomas  Hart  the  son,  and  the  heirs  of 
his  body ;  and  for  default  of  such  issue,  I  give  and  devise  the 
same  to  George  Hart,  brother  of  the  said  Thomas  Hart,  and  to 
the  heirs  of  his  body ;  and  for  default  of  such  issue  to  the  right 
heirs  of  me  the  said  Elizabeth  Barnard  for  ever. 

"  Item,  I  do  make,  ordain,  and  appoint  my  said  loving  kinsman 
Edward  Bagley  sole  executor  of  this  my  last  will  and  testament, 
hereby  revoking  all  former  wills ;  desiring  him  to  see  a  just  per- 
formance hereof,  according  to  my  true  intent  and  meaning.  In 
witness  whereof  I  the  said  Elizabeth  Barnard  have  hereunto  set 
my  hand  and  seal,  the  nine-and-twentieth  day  of  January,  Anno 
Domini,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  sixty-nine, 

'*  Elizabeth  Barnard. 
*'  Signed,  sealed,  published,  and  declared  to  be  the  last  mil  and 
testament  of  the  said  Elizabeth  Barnard,  in  the  presence  of 

"  John  Howes,  Rector  de  Abington. 
"  Francis  Wickes. 
"  Probatum  fuit  testamentum  suprascriptum  apud  cedes 
Exonienses  situat,  in  le  Strand,  in  comitatu  Middx. 
quarto  die  mensis  Martij,  l66g,  coram  venerabili 
viro  Domino  Egidio  Sioeete,  milite  et  legum  doctore, 
surrogato,  &;c.  juramento  Edwardi  Bagley,  unici 
executor,  nominat,  cui,  fyc.  de  bene,  fyc.  jurat." 

Malone. 

* that  in  toriting  (whatsoever  he  penned)  he  never  blotted 

out  a  line.']  This  is  not  true.  They  only  say  in  their  preface 
to  his  plays,  that  "  his  mind  and  hand  went  together,  <and  what 
he  thought,  he  uttered  with  that  easiness,  that  we  have  scarce 
received  from  him  a  blot  in  his  papers."  On  this  Mr.  Pope 
observes,  that  "  there  never  was  a  more  groundless  report,  or 
to  the  contrary  of  which  there  are  more  undeniable  evidences. 
As,  the  comedy  of  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  which  he  en- 
tirely new  writ ;  The  History  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  which  was 
first  published  under  the  title  of  The  Contention  of  York  and 
Lancaster;  and  that  of  Henry  V.  extremely  improved  ;  that  of 
Hamlet  enlarged  to  almost  as  much  again  as  at  first,  and  many 
pthers.'* 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       103 

**  a  thousand!  which  they  thought  a  malevolent 
"  speech.     I  had  not  told  posterity  this,  but  for 

Surely  this  is  a  very  strange  kind  of  argument.  In  the  firsl 
place  this  was  not  a  report,  ( unless  by  that  word  we  are  to  under- 
stand relation, )  but  a  positive  assertion,  grounded  on  the  best 
evidence  that  the  nature  of  the  subject  admitted;  namely,  ocular 
proof.  The  players  say,  in  substance,  that  Shakspeare  had  such 
a  happiness  of  expression,  that,  as  they  collect  from  his  papers, 
he  had  seldom  occasion  to  alter  the  first  words  he  had  set  down ; 
in  consequence  of  which  they  found  scarce  a  blot  in  his  writings. 
And  how  is  this  refuted  by  Mr.  Pope?  By  telling  us,  that  a  great 
many  of  his  plays  were  enlarged  by  their  author.  Allowing 
this  to  be  true,  which  is  by  no  means  certain,  if  he  had  written 
twenty  plays,  each  consisting  of  one  thousand  lines,  and  after- 
wards added  to  each  of  them  a  thousand  more,  would  it  there- 
fore follow,  that  he  had  not  written  the  first  thousand  with  faci- 
lity and  correctness,  or  that  those  must  have  been  necessarily 
expunged,  because  new  matter  was  added  to  them  ?  Certainly 
not. — But  the  truth  is,  it  is  by  no  means  clear  that  our  author 
did  enlarge  all  the  plays  mentioned  by  Mr.  Pope,  if  even  that 
would  prove  the  point  intended  to  be  established.  Mr.  Pope  was 
evidently  deceived  by  the  quarto  copies.  From  the  play  of 
Henry  V.  being  more  perfect  in  the  folio  edition  than  in  the 
quarto,  nothing  follows  but  that  the  quarto  impression  of  that 
piece  was  printed  from  a  mutilated  and  imperfect  copy,  stolen 
from  the  theatre,  or  taken  down  by  ear  during  the  representa- 
tion. What  have  been  called  the  quarto  copies  of  the  Second 
and  Third  Parts  of  King  Henry  VI.  were  in  fact  two  old  plays 
written  before  the  time  of  Shakspeare,  and  entitled  The  First 
Part  of  the  Contention  of  the  two  Houses  of  Yorke  and  Lan* 
caster,  &c.  and  The  True  Tragedy  of  Richard  Duke  of  Yorke, 
&c.  on  which  he  constructed  two  new  plays  ;  just  as  on  the  old 
plays  of  King  John,  and  The  Taming  of  a  Shrew,  he  formed  two 
other  plays  with  nearly  the  same  titles.  See  The  Dissertation 
in  Vol.  XIV.  p.  223. 

The  tragedy  of  Hamlet  in  the  first  edition,  (now  extant,)  that 
of  1004,  is  said  to  be  "  enlarged  to  almost  as  much  again  as  it 
was,  according  to  the  true  and  perfect  copy."  What  is  to  be 
collected  from  this,  but  that  there  was  a  former  imperfect  edi- 
tion (1  believe,  in  the  year  itx>2)  ?  that  the  one  we  are  now 
speaking  of  was  enlarged  to  as  much  again  as  it  was  in  the  former 
mutilated  impression,  and  that  this  is  the  genuine  and  perfect 
copy,  the  other  imperfect  and  spurious  ? 


104    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

"  their  ignorance,  who  chose  that  circumstance  to 
"  commend  their  friend  by,  wherein  he  most  fault- 
"  ed:  and  to  justify  mine  own  candour,  for  I  loved 
"  the  man,  and  do  honour  his  memory,  on  this  side 
"  idolatry,  as  much  as  any.  He  was,  indeed,  ho- 
"  nest,  and  of  an  open  and  free  nature,  had  an 
"  excellent  fancy,  brave  notions,  and  gentle  ex- 
"  pressions  ;  wherein  he  flowed  with  that  facility, 
"  that  sometimes  it  was  necessary  he  should  be 
"  stopped :  Sufflaminandus  erat,  as  Augustus  said 
"  of  Haterius.  His  wit  was  in  his  own  power  j 
"  would  the  rule  of  it  had  been  so  too.  Many 
*c  times  he  fell  into  those  things  which  could  not 
"  escape  laughter;  as  when  he  said  in  the  person  of 
**  Caesar,  one  speaking  to  him, 

f  Caesar,  thou  dost  me  wrong.* 

'*  He  replied : 

*  Caesar  did  never  wrong,  but  with  just  cause.' 
?'  and  such  like,  which  were  ridiculous.     But  he 

The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  indeed,  and  Romeo  and  Juliet, 
and  perhaps  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  our  author  appears  to  have 
altered  and  amplified ;  and  to  King  Richard  II.  what  is  called 
the  parliament-scene,  seems  to  have  been  added  ;  (though  this 
last  is  by  no  means  certain  ;)  but  neither  will  these  augmenta- 
tions and  new-modellings  disprove  what  has  been  asserted  by 
Shakspeare's  fellow-comedians  concerning  the  facility  of  his 
writing,  and  the  exquisite  felicity  of  his  first  expressions. 

The  hasty  sketch  of  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  which  he 
is  said  to  have  composed  in  a  fortnight,  he  might  have  written 
without  a  blot ;  and  three  or  four  years  afterwards,  when  he 
chose  to  dilate  his  plan,  he  might  have  composed  the  additional 
scenes  without  a  blot  likewise.  In  a  word,  supposing  even  that 
Nature  had  not  endowed  him  with  that  rich  vein  which  he  un- 
questionably possessed,  he  who  in  little  more  than  twenty  years 
produces  thirty-four  or  thirty-five  pieces  for  the  stage,  has  cer- 
tainly not  much  time  for  expunging.    Malone. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       105 

"  redeemed  his  vices  with  his  virtues  ;  there  was 
"  ever  more  in  him  to  be  praised  than  to  be  par- 
"  doned." 

As  for  the  passage  which  he  mentions  out  of 
Shakspeare,  there  is  .somewhat  like  it  in  Julius 
Qpsar,  but  without  thd  absurdity;  nor  did  I  ever 
meet  with  it  in  any  edition  that  I  have  seen  as 
quoted  by  Mr.  Jonson.3 

Besides  his  plays  in  this  edition,  there  are  two 
or  three  ascribed  to  him  by  Mr.  Langbaine,4  which 

'  ■  nor  did  I  ever  meet  with  it  in  any  edition  that  I  have 
seen,  as  quoted  by  Mr.  Jonson.']  See  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  note  on 
Julius  Ccesar,  Act  III.  sc.  i.  Vol.  XVI.     Malone. 

4  Besides  his  plays  in  this  edition,  there  are  two  or  three 
ascribed  to  him  by  Mr.  Langbaine,]  The  Birth  of  Merlin,  1662, 
written  by  W.  Rowley ;  the  old  play  of  King  John,  in  two  parts, 
1591,  on  which  Shakspeare  formed  his  King  John;  and  The 
Arraignment  of  Paris,  1584,  written  by  George  Peele. 

The  editor  of  the  folio  1664,  subjoined  to  the  36  dramas  pub- 
lished in  1623,  seven  plays,  four  of  which  had  appeared  in  Shak- 
speare's  life-time  with  his  name  in  the  title-page,  viz.  Pericles, 
Prince  of  Tyre,  lt)09,  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  1600,  The  London 
Prodigal,  1605,  and  The  Yorkshire  Tragedy,  1608;  the  three 
others  which  they  inserted,  Locrine,  15Q5,  Lord  Cromwell, 
l602,  and  The  Puritan,  1607,  having  been  printed  with  the 
initials  W.  S.  in  the  title-page,  the  editor  chose  to  interpret  those 
letters  to  mean  William  Shakspeare,  and  ascribed  them  also  to 
our  poet.  I  published  an  edition  of  these  seven  pieces  some  years 
ago,  freed  in  some  measure  from  the  gross  errors  with  which 
they  had  been  exhibited  in  ancient  copies,  that  the  publick 
might  see  what  they  contained ;  and  do  not  hesitate  to  declare 
my  firm  persuasion  that  of  Locrine,  Lord  Cromwell,  Sir  John 
Oldcastle,  The  London  Prodigal,  and  The  Puritan,  Shakspeare 
did  not  write  a  single  line. 

How  little  the  booksellers  of  former  times  scrupled  to  affix 
the  names  of  celebrated  writers  to  the  productions  of  others, 
even  in  the  life-time  of  such  celebrated  authors,  may  be  col- 
lected from  Hey  wood's  translations  from  Ovid,  which  in  1612, 
while  Shakspeare  was  yet  living,  were  ascribed  to  him.  See 
Vol.  X.  p.  321,  n.  l.*    With  the  dead  they  would  certainly 

*  Mr.  Malone's  edition  of  our  author's  worki,  1790. 


106    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

I  have  never  seen,  and  know  nothing  of.  He  writ 
likewise  Venus  and  Adonis,  and  Tarquin  and  Lu- 
crece,  in  stanzas,  which  have  been  printed  in  a  late 
collection  of  poems.5  As  to  the  character  given 
of  him  by  Ben  Jonson,  there  is  a  good  deal  true 
in  it:  but  I  believe  it  may  be  as  well  expressed  by 
what  Horace  says  of  the  first  Romans,  who  wrote 
tragedy  upon  the  Greek  models,  (or  indeed  trans- 
lated them,)  in  his  epistle  to  Augustus : 

"  '■       naturi  sublimis  &  acer : 

"  Nam  spirat  tragicum  satis,  et  feliciter  audet, 

"  Sed  turpem  putat  in  chartis  metuitque  lituram." 

As  I  have  not  proposed  to  myself  to  enter  into 
a  large  and  complete  criticism  upon  Shakspeare's 
works,  so  I  will  only  take  the  liberty,  with  all  due 
submission  to  the  judgment  of  others,  to  observe 
some  of  those  things  I  have  been  pleased  with  in 
looking  him  over. 

His  plays  are  properly  to  be  distinguished  only 
into  comedies  and  tragedies.  Those  which  are 
called  histories,  and  even  some  of  his  comedies,  are 
really  tragedies,  with  a  run  or  mixture  of  comedy 


make  still  more  free.  "  This  book  (says  Anthony  Wood,  speak- 
ing of  a  work  to  which  the  name  of  Sir  Philip  Sydney  was  pre- 
fixed) coming  out  so  late,  it  is  to  be  inquired  whether  Sir  Philip 
Sydney's  name  is  not  set  to  it  for  sale-sake,  being  a  usual  thing 
in  these  days  to  set  a  great  name  to  a  book  or  books,  by  shark- 
ing booksellers,  or  snivelling  writers,  to  get  bread."  Athen. 
Oxon.  Vol.  I.  p.  208.     Malone. 

*  — —  in  a  late  collection  of  poems."]  In  the  fourth  volume  of 
State  Poems,  printed  in  1 707.  Mr.  Rowe  did  not  go  beyond 
A  Late  Collection  of  Poems,  and  does  not  seem  to  have  known 
that  Shakspeare  also  wrote  154  Sonnets,  and  a  poem  entitled  A 
Lover's  Complaint.    Malone. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       107 

amongst  them.6  That  way  of  tragi-comedy  was 
the  common  mistake  of  that  age,  and  is  indeed  be- 

0  are  really  tragedies,  with  a  run  or  mixture  of  comedy 

amongst  them.]  Heywood,  our  author's  contemporary,  has  stated 
the  best  defence  that  can  be  made  for  his  intermixing  lighter 
with  the  more  serious  scenes  of  his  dramas  ! 

"  It  may  likewise  be  objected,  why  amongst  sad  and  grave 
histories  I  have  here  and  there  inserted  fabulous  jests  and  tales 
savouring  of  lightness.  I  answer,  I  have  therein  imitated  our 
historical,  and  comical  poets,  that  write  to  the  stage,  who,  lest 
the  auditory  should  be  dulled  with  serious  courses,  which  are 
merely  weighty  flnd  material,  in  every  act  present  some  Zany, 
with  his  mimick  action  to  breed  in  the  less  capable  mirth  and 
laughter  ;Jbr  they  that  write  to  all,  must  strive  to  please  all. 
And  as  such  fashion  themselves  to  a  multitude  diversely  addict- 
ed, so  I  to  an  universality  of  readers  diversely  disposed."  Pref. 
to  History  of  Women,  lt>24.     M alone. 

The  criticks  who  renounce  tragi-comedy  as  barbarous,  I  fear, 
speak  more  from  notions  which  they  have  formed  in  their  closets, 
than  any  well-built  theory  deduced  from  experience  of  what 
pleases  or  displeases,  which  ought  to  be  the  foundation  of  all  rules. 

Even  supposing  there  is  no  affectation  in  this  refinement,  and 
that  those  criticks  have  really  tried  and  purified  their  minds  till 
there  is  no  dross  remaining,  still  this  can  never  be  the  case  of  a 
popular  audience,  to  which  a  dramatick  representation  is  referred. 

Dryden  in  one  of  his  prefaces  condemns  his  own  conduct  in 
The  Spanish  Friar;  but,  says  he,  I  did  not  write  it  to  please 
myselr,  it  was  given  to  the  publick.  Here  is  an  involuntary  con- 
fession that  tragi  comedy  is  more  pleasing  to  the  audience ;  I 
would  ask  then,  upon  what  ground  it  is  condemned  ? 

This  ideal  excellence  of  uniformity  rests  upon  a  supposition 
that  we  are  either  more  refined,  or  a  higher  order  of  beings  than 
we  really  are:  there  is  no  provision  made  for  what  may  be  called 
the  animal  part  of  our  minds. 

Though  we  should  acknowledge  this  passion  for  variety  and 
contrarieties  to  be  the  vice  of  our  nature,  it  is  still  a  propensity 
which  we  all  feel,  and  which  he  who  undertakes  to  divert  us 
must  find  provision  for. 

We  are  obliged,  it  is  true,  in  our  pursuit  after  science,  or  ex- 
cellence in  any  art,  to  keep  our  minds  steadily  fixed  for  a  long 
continuance ;  it  is  a  task  we  impose  on  ourselves :  but  I  do  not 
wish  to  task  myself  in  my  amusements. 

If  the  great  object  of  the  theatre  is  amusement,  a  dramatick 


108    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

come  so  agreeable  to  the  English  taste,  that  though 
the  severer  criticks  among  us  cannot  bear  it,  yet 
the  generality  of  our  audiences  seem  to  be  better 
pleased  with  it  than  with  an  exact  tragedy.  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  The  Comedy  of  Errors, 
and  The  Taming  of  a  Shrew,  are  all  pure  comedy; 
the  rest,  however  they  are  called,  have  something  of 
both  kinds.  It  is  not  very  easy  to  determine  which 
way  of  writing  he  was  most  excellent  in.  There 
is  certainly  a  great  deal  of  entertainment  in  his 
comical  humours ;  and  though  they  did  not  then 
strike  at  all  ranks  of  people,  as  the  satire  of  the 
present  age  has  taken  the  liberty  to  do,  yet  there  is 
a  pleasing  and  a  well-distinguished  variety  in  those 
characters  which  he  thought  fit  to  meddle  with. 
Falstaff  is  allowed  by  every  body  to  be  a  master- 
piece; the  character  is  always  well  sustained,though 
drawn  out  into  the  length  of  three  plays;  and  even 
the  account  of  his  death  given  by  his  old  landlady 
Mrs.  Quickly,  in  the  first  Act  of  Henry  the  Fifth, 
though  it  be  extremely  natural,  is  yet  as  diverting 
as  any  part  of  his  life.  If  there  be  any  fault  in  the 
draught  he  has  made  of  this  lewd  old  fellow,  it  is, 
that  though  he  has  made  him  a  thief,  lying,  cow- 
ardly, vain-glorious,  and  in  short  every  way  vicious, 
yet  he  has  given  him  so  much  wit  as  to  make  him 
almost  too  agreeable ;  and  I  do  not  know  whether 

work  must  possess  every  means  to  produce  that  effect;  if  it  gives 
instruction  by  the  by,  so  much  its  merit  is  the  greater;  but  that 
is  not  its  principal  object.  The  ground  on  which  it  stands,  and 
which  gives  it  a  claim  to  the  protection  and  encouragement  of 
civilised  society,  is  not  because  it  enforces  moral  precepts,  or 
gives  instruction  of  any  kind ;  but  from  the  general  advantage 
that  it  produces,  by  habituating  the  mind  to  find  its  amusement 
in  intellectual  pleasures ;  weaning  it  from  sensuality,  and  by  de- 
grees filing  off,  smoothing,  and  polishing,  its  rugged  corners. 

Sir  J.  Reynolds. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       109 

some  people  have  not,  in  remembrance  of  the  di- 
version he  had  formerly  afforded  them,  been  sorry 
to  see  his  friend  Hal  use  him  so  scurvily,  when  he 
comes  to  the  crown  in  the  end  of  The  Second  Part 
of  Henri/  the  Fourth.  Amongst  other  extravagan- 
cies, in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  he  has  made 
him  a  deer-stealer,  that  he  might  at  the  same  time 
remember  his  Warwickshire  prosecutor,  under  the 
name  of  Justice  Shallow ;  he  has  given  him  very 
near  the  same  coat  of  arms  which  Dugdale,  in  his 
Antiquities  of  that  county,  describes  for  a  family 
there,7  and  makes  the  Welsh  parson  descant  very 
pleasantly  upon  them.  That  whole  play  is  admira- 
ble ;  the  humours  are  various  and  well  opposed ; 
the  main  design,  which  is  to  cure  Ford  of  his  un- 
reasonable jealousy,  is  extremely  well  conducted. 
In  Twelfth-Night  there  is  something  singularly  ri- 
diculous and  pleasant  in  the  fantastical  steward 
Malvolio.  The  parasite  and  the  vain-glorious  in 
Parolles,  in  AlVs  well  that  ends  well,  is  as  good  as 
any  thing  of  that  kind  in  Plautus  or  Terence.  Pe- 
truchio,  in  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  is  an  uncom- 
mon piece  of  humour.  The  conversation  of  Bene- 
dick and  Beatrice,  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  and 
of  Rosalind,  in  As  you  like  it,  have  much  wit  and 
sprightliness  all  along.  His  clowns,  without  which 
character  there  was  hardly  any  play  writ  in  that 
time,  are  all  very  entertaining :   and,  I  believe, 

r the  same  coat  of  arms  tohich  Dugdale,  in  his  Antiquities 

•flhat  county,  describes  for  a  family  there,]  There  are  two  coats, 
I  observe,  in  Dugdale,  where  three  silver  fishes  are  borne  in  the 
name  of  Lucy;  and  another  coat  to  the  monument  of  Thomas 
Lucy,  son  or  Sir  William  Lucy,  in  which  are  quartered  in  four 
several  divisions,  twelve  little  fishes,  three  in  each  division,  pro- 
bably luces.  This  very  coat,  indeed,  seems  alluded  to  in  Shal- 
low's giving  the  dozen  white  luces;  and  in  Sleuder's  saying  he 
may  quarter.    Thkobald. 


110  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

Thersites  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  and  Apemantus 
in  Timon,  will  be  allowed  to  be  master-pieces  of  ill- 
nature,  and  satirical  snarling.  To  these  I  might  add, 
that  incomparable  character  of  Shylock  the  Jew, 
in  The  Merchant  of  Venice;  but  though  we  have 
seen  that  play  received  and  acted  as  a  comedy," 
and  the  part  of  the  Jew  performed  by  an  excellent 
comedian,  yet  I  cannot  but  think  it  was  designed 
tragically  by  the  author.  There  appears  in  it  such 
a  deadly  spirit  of  revenge,  such  a  savage  fierceness 
and  fellness,  and  such  a  bloody  designation  of  cru- 
elty and  mischief,  as  cannot  agree  either  with  the 
style  or  characters  of  comedy.  The  play  itself,  take 
it  altogether,  seems  to  me  to  be  one  of  the  most 
finished  of  any  of  Shakspeare's.  The  tale,  indeed, 
in  that  part  relating  to  the  caskets,  and  the  extra- 
vagant and  unusual  kind  of  bond  given  by  Antonio, 
is  too  much  removed  from  the  rules  of  probability; 
but  taking  the  fact  for  granted,  we  must  allow  it 
to  be  very  beautifully  written.  There  is  something 
in  the  friendship  of  Antonio  to  Bassanio  very  great, 
generous,  and  tender.  The  whole  fourth  Act  (sup- 
posing, as  I  said,  the  fact  to  be  probable,)  is  ex- 
tremely fine.  But  there  are  two  passages  that 
deserve  a  particular  notice.  The  first  is,  what 
Portia  says  in  praise  of  mercy,  and  the  other  on  the 


•  — —  but  though  tae  have  seen  that  play  received  and  acted  as 
a  comedy,]  In  1701  Lord  Lansdown  produced  his  alteration  of 
The  Merchant  of  Venice,  at  the  theatre  in  Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, 
under  the  title  of  The  Jeiv  of  Venice,  and  expressly  calls  it  a 
comedy.     Shylock  was  performed  by  Mr.  Dogget.     Reed. 

And  such  was  the  bad  taste  of  our  ancestors  that  this  piece 
continued  to  be  a  stock-play  from  1/01  to  Feb.  14,  1/41,  when 
The  Merchant  of  Venice  was  exhibited  for  the  first  time  at  the 
theatre  in  Drury-Lane,  and  Mr.  Macklin  made  his  first  appear- 
ance in  the  character  of  Shylock.    Malone. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       ill 

power  of  musick.  The  melancholy  of  Jaques,  in 
As  you  like  it9  is  as  singular  and  odd  as  it  is  divert- 
ing.    And  if,  what  Horace  says, 

"  Difficile  est  proprie  communia  dicere," 

it  will  be  a  hard  task  for  any  one  to  go  beyond  him 
in  the  description  of  the  several  degrees  and  ages 
of  man's  life,  though  the  thought  be  old,  and  com- 
mon enough. 

"  — —  All  the  world's  a  stage, 

"  And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players ; 

"  They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances, 

*'  And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts, 

"  His  acts  being  seven  ages.     At  first,  the  infant, 

"  Mewling  and  puking  in  the  nurse's  arms : 

"  And  then,  the  whining  school-boy  with  his  satchel, 

"  And  shining  morning  face,  creeping  like  snail 

"  Unwillingly  to  school.     And  then,  the  lover 

u  Sighing  like  furnace,  u  ith  a  woful  ballad 

"  Made  to  his  mistress'  eye-brow.     Then,  a  soldier; 

"  Full  of  strange  oaths,  and  bearded  like  the  pard, 

"  Jealous  in  honour,  sudden  and  quick  in  quarrel, 

*'  Seeking  the  bubble  reputation 

**.  Ev'n  in  the  cannon's  mouth.    And  then,  the  justice; 

"  In  fair  round  belly,  with  good  capon  lin'd, 

"  With  eyes  severe,  and  beard  of  formal  cut, 

**  Full  of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances ; 

"  And  so  he  plays  his  part.     The  sixth  age  shifts 

"  Into  the  lean  and  slipper'd  pantaloon ; 

"  With  spectacles  on  nose,  and  pouch  on  side ; 

"  His  youthful  hose,  well  sav'd,  a  world  too  wide 

*'  For  his  shrunk  shank  ;  and  his  big  manly  voice, 

"  Turning  again  tow'rd  childish  treble,  pipes 

•'  And  whistles  in  his  sound :  Last  scene  of  all, 

"  That  ends  this  strange  eventful  history, 

«*  Is  second  childishness,  and  mere  oblivion  ; 

"  Sans  teeth,  sans  eyes,  sans  taste,  sans  every  thing." 

His  images  are  indeed  everywhere  so  lively,  that 
the  thing  he  would  represent  stands  full  before  you, 
and  you  possess  every  part  of  it.     I  will  venture  to 


112    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

point  out  one  more,  which  is,  I  think,  as  strong 
and  as  uncommon  as  any  thing  I  ever  saw;  it  is  an 
image  of  Patience.  Speaking  of  a  maid  in  love, 
he  says, 

"  i  i     <  She  never  told  her  love, 

"  But  let  concealment,  like  a  worm  i'th*  bud, 

"  Feed  on  her  damask  cheek :  she  pin'd  in  thought, 

•  And  sate  like  Patience  on  a  monument, 

"  Smiling  at  Grief." 

What  an  image  is  here  given!  and  what  a  task 
would  it  have  been  for  the  greatest  masters  of 
Greece  and  Rome  to  have  expressed  the  passions 
designed  by  this  sketch  of  statuary!  The  style  of 
his  comedy  is,  in  general,  natural  to  the  charac- 
ters, and  easy  in  itself;  and  the  wit  most  commonly 
sprightly  and  pleasing,  except  in  those  places  where 
he  runs  into  doggrel  rhymes,  as  in  The  Comedy  of 
Errors,  and  some  other  plays.  As  for  his  jingling 
sometimes,  and  playing  upon  words,  it  was  the 
common  vice  of  the  age  he  lived  in:  and  if  we  find 
it  in  the  pulpit,  made  use  of  as  an  ornament  to  the 
sermons  of  some  of  the  gravest  divines  of  those 
times,  perhaps  it  may  not  be  thought  too  light  for 
the  stage. 

But  certainly  the  greatness  of  this  author's  genius 
does  no  where  so  much  appear,  as  where  he  gives 
his  imagination  an  entire  loose,  and  raises  his  fancy 
to  a  flight  above  mankind,  and  the  limits  of  the 
visible  World.  Such  are  his  attempts  in  The  Tempest, 
A  Midsummer-Night' s  Dream,  Macbeth,  and  Ham- 
let. Of  these,  The  Tempest,  however  it  comes  to 
be  placed  the  first  by  the  publishers  of  his  works, 
can  never  have  been  the  first  written  by  him  :  it 
seems  to  me  as  perfect  in  its  kind,  as  almost  any 
thing  we  have  of  his.     One  may  observe,  that  the 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.  «     US 

unities  are  kept  here,  with  an  exactness  uncommon 
to  the  liberties  of  his  writing ;  though  that  was 
what,  I  suppose,  he  valued  himself  least  upon,  since 
his  excellencies  were  all  of  another  kind.  I  am 
very  sensible  that  he  does,  in  this  play,  depart  too 
mueh  from  that  likeness  to  truth  which  ought  to 
be  observed  in  these  sort  of  writings ;  yet  he  does 
it  so  very  finely,  that  one  is  easily  drawn  in  to  have 
more  faith  for  his  sake,  than  reason  does  well  allow 
of.  His  magick  has  something  in  it  very  solemn 
and  very  poetical :  and  that  extravagant  character 
of  Caliban  is  mighty  well  sustained,  shows  a  won- 
derful invention  in  the  author,  who  could  strike 
out  such  a  particular  wild  image,  and  is  certainly 
one  of  the  finest  and  most  uncommon  grotesques 
that  ever  was  seen.  The  observation,  which,  I  have 
been  informed,  three  very  great  men  concurred  in 
making9  upon  this  part,  was  extremely  just ;  that 
Shakspeare  had  not  only  found  out  a  new  character 
in  his  Caliban,  but  had  also  devised  and  adapted  a 
new  manner  of  language  for  that  character. 

It  is  the  same  magick  that  raises  the  Fairies  in  A 
Midsummer-Night 's  Dream,  the  Witches  in  Mac- 
beth, and  the  Ghost  in  Hamlet,  with  thoughts  and 
language  so  proper  to  the  parts  they  sustain,  and 
so  peculiar  to  the  talent  or  this  writer.  But  of  the 
two  last  of  these  plays  I  shall  have  occasion  to  take 


9  ■  which,  I  have  been  informed,  three  very  great  men  con- 
curred in  making  — ]  Lord  Falkland,  Lord  C.  J.  Vaughan,  and 
Mr.  Selden.     Rowe. 

Dryden  was  of  the  same  opinion.  "  His  person  (says  he, 
speaking  of  Caliban,)  is  monstrous,  as  he  is  the  product  of  un- 
natural lust,  and  his  language  is  as  hobgoblin  as  his  person  t  in 
all  things  he  is  distinguished  from  other  mortals."  Preface  to 
Troilus  and  Cressida.     Malone. 

VOL.  I.  I 


1 14    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

notice,  among  the  tragedies  of  Mr.  Shakspeare.  If 
one  undertook  to  examine  the  greatest  part  of  these 
t>y  those  rules  which  are  established  by  Aristotle, 
and  taken  from  the  model  of  the  Grecian  stage,  it 
would  be  no  very  hard  task  to  find  a  great  many 
faults ;  but  as  Shakspeare  lived  under  a  kind  of 
mere  light  of  nature,  and  had  never  been  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  regularity  of  those  written  pre- 
cepts, so  it  would  be  hard  to  judge  him  by  a  law 
he  knew  nothing  of.    We  are  to  consider  him  as  a 
man  that  lived  in  a  state  of  almost  universal  licence 
and  ignorance:  there  was  no  established  judge,  but 
every  one  took  the  liberty  to  write  according  to  the 
dictates  of  his  own  fancy.     When  one  considers, 
that  there  is  not  one  play  before  him  of  a  reputa- 
tion good  enough  to  entitle  it  to  an  appearance  on 
the  present  stage,  it  cannot  but  be  a  matter  of  great 
wonder  that  he  should  advance  dramatick  poetry 
so  far  as  he  did.     The  fable  is  what  is  generally 
placed  the  first,  among  those  that  are  reckoned  the 
constituent  parts  of  a  tragick  or  heroick  poem ; 
not,  perhaps,  as  it  is  the  most  difficult  or  beauti- 
ful, but  as  it  is  the  first  properly  to  be  thought  of 
in  the  contrivance  and  course  of  the  whole ;  and 
with  the  fable  ought  to  be  considered  the  fit  dispo- 
sition, order,  and  conduct  of  its  several  parts.    As 
it  is  not  in  this  province  of  the  drama  that  the 
strength  and  mastery  of  Shakspeare  lay,  so  I  shall 
not  undertake  the  tedious  and  ill-natured  trouble 
to  point  out  the  several  faults  he  wras  guilty  of  in 
it.     His  tales  were  seldom  invented,  but  rather 
taken  either  from  the  true  history,  or  novels  and 
romances:  and  he  commonly  made  use  of  them  in 
that  order,  with  those  incidents,  and  that  extent  of 
time  in  which  he  found  them  in  the  authors  from 
whence  he  borrowed  them.  So  The  Winter's  Tale4 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       115 

which  is  taken  from  an  old  book,  called  The  Delec- 
table History  of Dorastus  and  Fawnia,  contains  the 
space  of  sixteen  or  seventeen  years,  and  the  scene 
is  sometimes  laid  in  Bohemia,  and  sometimes  in 
Sicily,  according  to  the  original  order  of  the  story. 
Almost  all  his  historical  plays  comprehend  a  great 
length  of  time,  and  very  different  and  distinct 
places :  and  in  his  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  the  scene 
travels  over  the  greatest  part  of  the  Roman  empire. 
But  in  recompence  for  his  carelessness  in  this  point, 
when  he  comes  to  another  part  of  the  drama,  the 
manners  of  his  characters,  in  acting  or  speaking  xcliat 
is  proper  for  them,  and  fit  to  be  shown  by  the  poet,  he 
may  be  generally  justified,  and  in  very  many  places 
greatly  commended.  For  those  plays  which  he  has 
taken  from  the  English  or  Roman  history,  let  any 
man  compare  them,  and  he  will  find  the  character 
as  exact  in  the  poet  as  the  historian.  He  seems  in- 
deed so  far  from  proposing  to  himself  any  one  action 
for  a  subject,  that  the  title  very  often  tells  you,  it  is 
The  Life  of  King  John,  King  Richard,  &c.  What 
can  be  more  agreeable  to  the  idea  our  historians 
give  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  than  the  picture  Shakspeare 
has  drawn  of  him  ?  His  manners  are  every  where 
exactly  the  same  with  the  story ;  one  finds  nim  still 
described  with  simplicity,  passive  sanctity,  want  of 
courage,  weakness  of  mind,  and  easy  submission  to 
the  governance  of  an  imperious  wife,  or  prevailing 
faction :  though  at  the  same  time  the  poet  does 
justice  to  his  good  qualities,  and  moves  the  pity  of 
his  audience  for  him,  by  showing  him  pious,  disin- 
terested, a  contemner  of  the  thingi  of  this  world, 
and  wholly  resigned  to  the  severest  dispensations 
of  God's  providence.  There  is  a  short  scene  in 
T/ie  Second  Part  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  which  I  cannot 
but  think  admirable  in  its  kind.  Cardinal  Beaufort, 

i  2 


1 16    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

■who  had  murdered  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  is 
shown  in  the  last  agonies  on  his  death-bed,  with  the 
good  king  praying  over  him.  There  is  so  much 
terror  in  one,  so  much  tenderness  and  moving  piety 
in  the  other,  as  must  touch  any  one  who  is  capable 
either  of  fear  or  pity.  In  his  Henry  the  Eighth,  that 
prince  is  drawn  with  that  greatness  of  mind,  and 
all  those  good  qualities  which  are  attributed  to  him 
in  any  account  of  his  reign.  If  his  faults  are  not 
shown  in  an  equal  degree,  and  the  shades  in  this 
picture  do  not  bear  a  just  proportion  to  the  lights, 
it  is  not  that  the  artist  wanted  either  colours  or  skill 
in  the  disposition  of  them;  but  the  truth,  I  believe, 
might  be,  that  he  forbore  doing  it  out  of  regard  to 
Queen  Elizabeth,  since  it  could  have  been  no  very 
great  respect  to  the  memory  of  his  mistress,  to  have 
exposed  some  certain  parts  of  her  father's  life  upon 
the  stage.  He  has  dealt  much  more  freely  with  the 
minister  of  that  great  king  ;  and  certainly  nothing 
was  ever  mere  justly  written,  than  the  character  of 
Cardinal  Wolsey.  He  has  shown  him  insolent  in 
his  prosperity ;  and  yet,  by  a  wonderful  address,  he 
makes  his  fall  and  ruin  the  subject  of  general  com- 
passion. 1  he  whole  man,  with  his  vices  and  vir- 
tues, is  finely  and  exactly  described  in  the  second 
scene  of  the  fourth  Act.  The  distresses  likewise  of 
Queen  Katharine,  in  this  play,  are  very  movingly 
touched  ;  and  though  the  art  of  the  poet  has 
screened  King  Henry  from  any  gross  imputation 
of  injustice,  yet  one  is  inclined  to  wish,  the  Queen 
had  met  with  a  fortune  more  worthy  of  her  birth 
and  virtue.  Nor  are  the  manners,  proper  to  the 
persons  represented,  less  justly  observed,  in  those 
characters  taken  from  the  Roman  history;  and  of 
this,  the  fierceness  and  impatience  of  Coriolanus, 
his  courage  and  disdain  of  the  common  people,  the 
virtue  and  philosophical  temper  of  Brutus,  and  the 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.        117 

irregular  greatness  of  mind  in  M.  Antony,  are 
beautiful  proofs.  For  the  two  last  especially,  you 
find  them  exactly  as  they  are  described  by  Plutarch, 
from  whom  certainly  Shakspeare  copied  them.  He 
has  indeed  followed  his  original  pretty  close,  and 
taken  in  several  little  incidents  that  might  have 
been  spared  in  a  play.  But,  as  I  hinted  before,  his 
design  seems  most  commonly  rather  to  describe 
those  great  men  in  the  several  fortunes  and  acci- 
dents of  their  lives,  than  to  take  any  single  great 
action,  and  form  his  work  simply  upon  that.  How- 
ever, there  are  some  of  his  pieces,  where  the  fable 
is  founded  upon  one  action  only.  Such  are  more 
especially,  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Hamlet,  and  Othello. 
The  design  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  is  plainly  the  punish- 
ment of  their  two  families,  for  the  unreasonable 
feuds  and  animosities  that  had  been  so  long  kept 
up  between  them,  and  occasioned  the  effusion  of  so 
much  blood.  In  the  management  of  this  story,  he 
has  shown  something  wonderfully  tender  and  pas- 
sionate in  the  love-part,  and  very  pitiful  in  the  dis- 
tress. Hamlet  is  founded  on  much  the  same  tale 
with  the  Electra  of  Sophocles.  In  each  of  them  a 
young  prince  is  engaged  to  revenge  the  death  of 
nis  father,  their  mothers  are  equally  guilty,  are 
both  concerned  in  the  murder  of  their  husbands,1 
and  are  afterwards  married  to  the  murderers.  There 
is  in  the  first  part  of  the  Greek  tragedy  something 
very  moving  in  the  grief  of  Electra ;  but,  as  Mr. 
Dacier  has  observed,  there  is  something  very  un- 
natural and  shocking  in  the  manners  he  has  given 
that  princess  and  Orestes  in  the  latter  part.  Orestes 
imbrues  his  hands  in  the  blood  of  his  own  mother  j 

1  '  are  both  concerned  in  the  murder  of  their  husbands,] 
It  does  not  appear  that  Hamlet's  mother  was  concerned  in  the 
death  of  her  husband.     Ma  lone. 


1 18    SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  &c. 

and  that  barbarous  action  is  performed,  though  not 
immediately  upon  the  stage,  yet  so  near,  that  the 
audience  hear  Clytemnestra  crying  out  to  JEgys- 
thus  for  help,  and  to  her  son  for  mercy :  while 
Electra  her  daughter,  and  a  princess,  (both  of  them 
characters  that  ought  to  have  appeared  with  more 
decency,)  stands  upon  the  stage,  and  encourages 
her  brother  in  the  parricide.  What  horror  does 
this  not  raise !  Clytemnestra  was  a  wicked  woman, 
and  had  deserved  to  die;  nay,  in  the  truth  of  the 
story,  she  was  killed  by  her  own  son ;  but  to  repre- 
sent an  action  of  this  kind  on  the  stage,  is  certainly 
an  offence  against  those  rules  of  manners  proper  to 
the  persons,  that  ought  to  be  observed  there.  On 
the  contrary,  let  us  only  look  a  little  on  the  con- 
duct of  Shakspeare.  Hamlet  is  represented  with 
the  same  piety  towards  his  father,  and  resolution  to 
revenge  his  death,  as  Orestes ;  he  has  the  same  ab- 
horrence for  his  mother's  guilt,  which,  to  provoke 
him  the  more,  is  heightened  by  incest :  but  it  is 
with  wonderful  art  and  justness  of  judgment,  that 
the  poet  restrains  him  from  doing  violence  to  his 
mother.  To  prevent  any  thing  of  that  kind,  he 
makes  his  father's  Ghost  forbid  that  part  of  his 
vengeance : 

*  But  howsoever  thou  pursu'st  this  act, 
**  Taint  not  thy  mind,  nor  let  thy  soul  contrive 
"  Against  thy  mother  aught;  leave  her  to  heaven, 
"  And  to  those  thorns  that  in  her  bosom  lodge, 
"  To  prick  and  sting  her." 

This  is  to  distinguish  rightly  between  horror  and 
terror.  The  latter  is  a  proper  passion  of  tragedy, 
but  the  former  ought  always  to  be  carefully  avoid- 
ed. And  certainly  no  dramatick  writer  ever  suc- 
ceeded better  in  raising  terror  in  the  minds  of  an 
audience  than  Shakspeare  has  done.    The  whole 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       119 

tragedy  of  Macbeth,  but  more  especially  the  scene 
where  the  King  is  murdered,  in  the  second  Act,  as 
well  as  this  play,  is  a  noble  proof  of  that  manly 
spirit  with  which  he  writ;  and  both  show  how 
powerful  he  was,  in  giving  the  strongest  motions 
to  our  souls  that  they  are  capable  of.  I  cannot 
leave  Hamlet,  without  taking  notice  of  the  ad- 
vantage with  which  we  have  seen  this  master-piece 
of  Shakspeare  distinguish  itself  upon  the  stage,  by 
Mr.  Betterton's  fine  performance  of  that  part.  A 
man,  who,  though  he  had  no  other  good  qualities, 
as  he  has  a  great  many,  must  have  made  his  way 
into  the  esteem  of  all  men  of  letters,  by  this  only 
excellency.  No  man  is  better  acquainted  with 
Shakspeare's  manner  of  expression,  and  indeed  he 
has  studied  him  so  well,  and  is  so  much  a  master 
of  him,  that  whatever  part  of  his  he  performs,  he 
does  it  as  if  it  had  been  written  on  purpose  for 
him,  and  that  the  author  had  exactly  conceived  it 
as  he  plays  it.  I  must  own  a  particular  obligation 
to  him,  for  the  most  considerable  part  of  the  pass- 
ages relating  to  this  life,  which  I  have  here  trans- 
mitted to  the  publick  ;  his  veneration  for  the  me- 
mory of  Shakspeare  having  engaged  him  to  make  a 
journey  into  Warwickshire  on  purpose  to  gather 
up  what  remains  he  could,  of  a  name  for  which  he 
had  so  great  a  veneration.2 


*  — —  of  a  name  for  which  he  had  so  great  a  veneration.] 
Mr.  Betterton  was  born  in  1635,  and  had  many  opportunities  of 
collecting  information  relative  to  Shakspeare,  but  unfortunately 
the  age  in  which  he  lived  was  not  an  age  of  curiosity.  Had 
either  he  or  Dryden  or  Sir  William  D'  Avenant  taken  the  trouble 
to  visit  our  poet's  youngest  daughter,  who  lived  till  1662,  or  his 
grand-daughter,  who  did  not  die  till  1670,  many  particulars 
might  have  been  preserved  which  arc  now  irrecoverably  lost. 
Shakspcare's  sister,  Joan  Hart,  who  was  only  five  years  younger 
than  him,  died  at  Stratford  in  Nov.  1646,  at  the  age  of  sevtntv- 


120        ADDITIONAL  ANECDOTES 


To  the  foregoing  Accounts  of  Shakspearf/s  Life, 
/  have  only  one  Passage  to  add,  which  Mr.  Pope 
related,  as  communicated  to  him  by  Mr.  Rowe. 

IN  the  time  of  Elizabeth,  coaches  being  yet  un- 
common, and  hired  coaches  not  at  all  in  use,  those 
who  were  too  proud,  too  tender,  or  too  idle  to 
walk,  went  on  horseback  to  any  distant  business  or 
diversion.  Many  came  on  horseback  to  the  play,3 
and  when  Shakspeare  fled  to  London  from  the 
terror  of  a  criminal  prosecution,  his  first  expedient 
was  to  wait  at  the  door  of  the  playhouse,  and  hold 
the  horses  of  those  that  had  no  servants,  that  they 
might  be  ready  again  after  the  performance.  In 
this  office  he  became  so  conspicuous  for  his  care 


six ;  and  from  her  undoubtedly  his  two  daughters,  and  his  grand- 
daughter Lady  Barnard,  had  learned  several  circumstances  of 
his  early  history  antecedent  to  the  year  1600.     Malone. 

This  Account  of  the  Life  of  Shakspeare  is  printed  from  Mr. 
Rowe's  second  edition,  in  which  it  had  been  abridged  and  altered 
by  himself  after  its  appearance  in  I70y.     Steevens. 

3  Many  came  on  horseback  to  the  play,]  Plays  were  at  this 
time  performed  in  the  afternoon.  "  The  pollicie  of  plaies  is  very 
necessary,  howsoever  some  shallow-brained  censurers  (not  the 
deepest  searchers  into  the  secrets  of  government)  mightily  op- 
pugne  them.  For  whereas  the  afternoon  being  the  idlest  time  of 
the  day  wherein  men  that  are  their  own  masters  (as  gentlemen 
of  the  court,  the  innes  of  the  court,  and  a  number  of  captains 
and  soldiers  about  London )  do  wholly  bestow  themselves  upon 
pleasure,  and  that  pleasure  they  divide  (how  vertuously  it  skills 
not)  either  in  gaming,  following  of  harlots,  drinking,  or  seeing  a 
play,  is  it  not  better  (since  of  four  extreames  all  the  world  can- 
not keepe  them  but  they  will  choose  one )  that  they  should  betake 
them  to  the  least,  which  is  plaies?"  Nash's  Pierce  Pennilesse 
Hs  Supplication  to  the  Devil,  15Q2.    Steevens. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       ]2l 

and  readiness,  that  in  a  short  time  every  man  as  he 
alighted  called  for  Will.  Shakspeare,  and  scarcely 
any  other  waiter  was  trusted  with  a  horse  while  Will. 
Shakspeare  could  be  had.  This  was  the  first  dawn 
of  better  fortune.  Shakspeare,  finding  more  horses 
put  into  his  hand  than  he  could  hold,  hired  boys 
to  wait  under  his  inspection,  who,  when  Will. 
Shakspeare  was  summoned,  were  immediately  to 
present  themselves,  /  am  Shakspeare's  boy,  Sir, 
in  time,  Shakspeare  found  higher  employment : 
but  as  long  as  the  practice  of  riding  to  the  play- 
house continued,  the  waiters  that  held  the  horses 
retained   the  appellation  of,  Shakspeare's  boys.* 

Johnson. 


4  '  '  the  xvaiters  that  held  the  horses  retained  the  appellation 
of,  Shakspeare's  boys]  I  cannot  dismiss  this  anecdote  without 
observing  that  it  seems  to  want  every  mark  of  probability. 
Though  Shakspeare  quitted  Stratford  on  account  of  a  juvenile 
irregularity,  we  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he  had  forfeited 
the  protection  of  his  father  who  was  engaged  in  a  lucrative  busi- 
ness, or  the  love  of  bis  wife  who  had  already  brought  him  two 
children,  and  was  herself  the  daughter  of  a  substantial  yeoman. 
It  is  unlikely  therefore,  when  he  was  beyond  the  reach  of  his 
prosecutor,  that  he  should  conceal  his  plan  of  life,  or  place  of 
residence,  from  those  who,  if  he  found  himself  distressed,  could 
not  fail  to  afford  him  such  supplies  as  would  have  set  him  above 
the  necessity  of  holding  horses  for  subsistence.  Mr.  Malone  has 
remarked  in  his  Attempt  to  ascertain  the  Order  in  which  the 
Plays  of  Shakspeare  were  written,  that  he  might  have  found  an 
easy  introduction  to  the  stage  ;  for  Thomas  Green,  a  celebrated 
comedian  of  that  period,  was  his  townsman,  and  perhaps  his  re- 
lation. The  genius  of  our  author  prompted  him  to  write  poetry; 
his  connection  with  a  player  might  have  given  his  productions  a 
dramatick  turn;  or  his  own  sagacity  might  have  taught  him  that 
fame  was  not  incompatible  with  profit,  and  that  the  theatre  was 
an  avenue  to  both.  That  it  was  once  the  general  custom  to  ride 
on  horse-back  to  the  play,  1  am  likewise  yet  to  learn.  The  most 
popular  of  the  theatres  were  on  the  Bunkside ;  and  we  are  told 
by  the  satirical  pamphleteers  of  that  time,  thut  the  usual  mode 
of  conveyance  to  these  places  of  amusement,  was  by  water,  but 


122        ADDITIONAL  ANECDOTES 


Mr.  Rowe  has  told  us,  that  he  derived  the  prin- 
cipal anecdotes  in  his  account  of  Shakspeare,  from 
Betterton  the  player,  whose  zeal  had  induced  hinj 
to  visit  Stratford,  for  the  sake  of  procuring  all  pos- 
sible intelligence  concerning  a  poet  to  whose  works 
he  might  justly  think  himself  under  the  strongest 


not  a  single  writer  so  much  as  hints  at  the  custom  of  riding  to 
them,  or  at  the  practice  of  having  horses  held  during  the  hours 
of  exhibition.  Some  allusion  to  this  usage,  (if  it  had  existed) 
must,  I  think,  have  been  discovered  in  the  course  of  our  re- 
searches after  contemporary  fashions.  Let  it  be  remembered  too, 
that  we  receive  this  tale  on  no  higher  authority  than  that  of 
Cibber's  Lives  of  the  Poets,  Vol.  I.  p.  130.  "  Sir  William  Da- 
venant  told  it  to  Mr.  Betterton,  who  communicated  it  to  Mr. 
Rowe,"  who  (according  to  Dr.  Johnson)  related  it  to  Mr.  Pope. 
Mr.  Rowe  (if  this  intelligence  be  authentick)  seems  to  have 
concurred  with  me  in  opinion,  as  he  forbore  to  introduce  a  cir- 
cumstance so  incredible  into  his  Life  of  Shakspeare.  As  to  the 
book  which  furnishes  the  anecdote,  not  the  smallest  part  of  it 
was  the  composition  of  Mr.  Cibber,  being  entirely  written  by  a 
Mr.  Shiells,  amanuensis  to  Dr.  Johnson,  when  his  Dictionary 
was  preparing  for  the  press.  T.  Cibber  was  in  the  King's  Bench, 
and  accepted  of  ten  guineas  from  the  booksellers  for  leave  to 
prefix  his  name  to  the  work  ;  and  it  was  purposely  so  prefixed 
as  to  leave  the  reader  in  doubt  whether  himself  or  his  father  was 
the  person  designed. 

The  foregoing  anecdote  relative  to  Cibber's  Lives,  &c.  I  re- 
ceived from  Dr.  Johnson.  See,  however,  The  Monthly  Review, 
for  December,  1781,  p.  409.     Steevens. 

Mr.  Steevens  in  one  particular  is  certainly  mistaken.  To  the 
theatre  in  Blackfriars  I  have  no  doubt  that  many  gentlemen  rode 
in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  King  James  I.  From  the 
Strand,  Holborn,  Bishopsgate  Street,  &c.  where  many  of  the 
nobility  lived,  they  could  indeed  go  no  other  way  than  on  foot, 
or  on  horseback,  or  in  coaches  ;  and  coaches  till  after  the  death 
of  Elizabeth  were  extremely  rare.  Many  of  the  gentry,  there- 
fore, certainly  went  to  that  playhouse  on  horseback.  See  the 
proofs,  in  the  Essay  above  referred  to. 

This,  however,  will  not  establish  the  tradition  relative  to  our 
author's  first  employment  at  the  playhouse,  which  stands  on  a 
very  slender  foundation.    Malone. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       125 

obligations.  Notwithstanding  this  assertion,  in  the 
manuscript  papers  of  the  late  Mr.  Oldys  it  is  said, 
that  one  Bowman  (according  to  Chetwood,  p.  143, 
"  an  actor  more  than  half  an  age  on  the  London 
theatres")  was  unwilling  to  allow  that  his  associate 
and  contemporary  Betterton  had  ever  undertaken 
such  a  journey.5  Be  this  matter  as  it  will,  the 
following  particulars,  which  I  shall  give  in  the 
words  of  Oldys,  are,  for  aught  we  know  to  the 
contrary,  as  well  authenticated  as  any  of  the  anec- 
dotes delivered  down  to  us  by  Rowe. 

Mr.  Oldys  had  covered  several  quires  of  paper 
with  laborious  collections  for  a  regular  life  of  our 
author.  From  these  I  have  made  the  following 
extracts,  which  (however  trivial)  contain  the  only 


*  — —  it  is  said,  that  one  Bowman— ivas  unwilling  to  aUoio 
that  his  associate  and  contemporary  Betterton  had  ever  undertaken 
such  a  journey. ]  This  assertion  of  Mr.  Oldys  is  altogether  un- 
worthy of  credit.  Why  any  doubt  should  be  entertained  con- 
cerning Mr.  Betterton's  having  visited  Stratford,  after  Rowe's 
positive  assertion  that  he  did  so,  it  is  not  easy  to  conceive.  Mr. 
Rowe  did  not  go  there  himself;  and  how  could  he  have  collected 
the  few  circumstances  relative  to  Shakspeare  and  his  family, 
which  he  has  told,  if  he  had  not  obtained  information  from  some 
friend  who  examined  the  Register  of  the  parish  of  Stratford,  and 
made  personal  inquiries  on  the  subject  ? 

"  Bowman,"  we  are  told,  u  was  unwilling  to  believe"  &c. 
But  the  fact  disputed  did  not  require  any  exercise  of  his  •belief, 
Mr.  Bowman  was  married  to  the  daughter  of  Sir  Francis  Watson, 
Bart,  the  gentleman  with  whom  Betterton  joined  in  an  adventure 
to  the  East  Indies,  whose  name  the  writer  of  Betterton's  Life  in 
Biographia  Iiritannica  has  so  studiously  concealed.  By  that  un- 
fortunate scheme  Betterton  lost  above  20001.  Dr.  I  fat  clitic  6000I. 
and  Sir  Francis  Watson  his  whole  fortune.  On  his  death  soon 
after  the  year  1692,  Betterton  generously  took  his  daughter  un- 
der his  protection,  and  educated  her  in  his  house.  Here  Bow- 
man married  her ;  from  which  period  he  continued  to  live  in  the 
most  friendly  correspondence  with  Mr.  Betterton,  and  must  have 
known  whether  he  went  to  Stratford  or  not.     Malonk. 


124        ADDITIONAL  ANECDOTES 

circumstances  that  wear  the  least  appearance  of 
novelty  or  information;  the  song  in  p.  62  ex- 
cepted. 

"  If  tradition  may  be  trusted,  Shakspeare  oftenv 
baited  at  the  Crown  Inn  or  Tavern  in  Oxford,  in 
his  journey  to  and  from  London.  The  landlady 
was  a  woman  of  great  beauty  and  sprightly  wit, 
and  her  husband,  Mr.  John  Davenant,  (afterwards 
mayor  of  that  city,)  a  grave  melancholy  man ;  who, 
as  well  as  his  wife,  used  much  to  delight  in  Shak- 
speare's pleasant  company.  Their  son  young  Will. 
Davenant  (afterwards  Sir  William)  was  then  a  little 
school-boy  in  the  town,  of  about  seven  or  eight 
years  old,6  and  so  fond  also  of  Shakspeare,  that 
whenever  he  heard  of  his  arrival,  he  would  fly 
from  school  to  see  him.  One  day  an  old  towns- 
man observing  the  boy  running  homeward  almost 
out  of  breath,  asked  him  whither  he  was  posting 
in  that  heat  and  hurry.  He  answered,  to  see  his 
gW-father  Shakspeare.  There's  a  good  boy,  said 
the  other,  but  have  a  care  that  you  don't  take 
Godys  name  in  vain.  This  story  Mr.  Pope  told  me 
at  the  Earl  of  Oxford's  table,  upon  occasion  of 
some  discourse  which  arose  about  Shakspeare's  mo- 
nument then  newly  erected  in  Westminster  Abbey;7 

6  — —  of  about  seven  or  eight  years  old,]  He  was  born  at 
Oxford  in  February  J 605-6.     Malone. 

7  Shakspeare's  monument  then  newly  erected  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey ;]  M  This  monument,"  says  Mr.  Granger,  was  erected 
in  1741,  by  the  direction  of  the  Earl  of  Burlington,  Dr.  Mead, 
Mr.  Pope,  and  Mr.  Martyn.  Mr.  Fleetwood  and  Mr.  Rich  gave 
each  of  them  a  benefit  towards  it,  from  one  of  Shakspeare's  own 
plays.  It  was  executed  by  H.  Scheemaker,  after  a  design  of 
Kent. 

"  On  the  monument  is  inscribed — amor  publicus  posuit.  Dr. 
Mead  objected  to  amor  publicus,  as  not  occurring  in  old  classical 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       125 

and  he  quoted  Mr.  Betterton  the  player  for  his 
authority.  I  answered,  that  I  thought  such  a  story 
might  have  enriched  the  variety  of  those  choice 

inscriptions ;  but  Mr.  Pope  and  the  other  gentlemen  concerned 
insisting  that  it  should  stand,  Dr.  Mead  yielded  the  point,  saying, 

"  Omnia  vincit  amor,  nos  et  cedamus  amort." 
"  This  anecdote  was  communicated  by  Dr.  Lort,  late  Greek 
Professor  of  Cambridge,  who  had  it  from  Dr.  Mead  himself." 

It  was  recorded  at  the  time  in  The  Gentleman's  Magazine  for 
Feb.  1/41,  by  a  writer  who  objects  to  every  part  of  the  inscrip- 
tion, and  says  it  ought  to  have  been,  "  G.  S.  centum  viginti  et 
quatuor  post  ooitum  annis  populus plaudens  [autjavens~\  posuit." 

The  monument  was  opened  Jan.  2^),  1/41.  Scheemaker  is 
said  to  have  got  30ol.  for  his  work.  The  performers  at  each 
house,  much  to  their  honour,  performed  gratis  ;  and  the  Dean 
and  Chapter  of  Westminster  took  nothing  for  the  ground.  The 
money  received  by  the  performance  at  Drury  Lane,  amounted  to 
above  2001.  the  receipts  at  Covent  Garden  to  about  lOOl.  These 
particulars  I  learn  from  Oldys's  MS.  notes  on  Langbaine. 

The  scroll  on  the  monument,  as  I  learn  from  a  letter  to  my 
father,  dated  June  27,  1741,  remained  for  some  time  after  the 
monument  was  set  up,  without  any  inscription  on  it.  This  was 
a  challenge  to  the  wits  of  the  time ;  which  one  of  them  accepted 
by  writing  a  copy  of  verses,  the  subject  of  which  was  a  conver- 
sation supposed  to  pass  between  Dr.  Mead  and  Sir  Thomas 
Hanmer,  relative  to  the  filling  up  of  the  scroll.  I  know  not  whe- 
ther they  are  in  print,  and  I  do  not  choose  to  quote  them  all. 
The  introductory  lines,  however,  run  thus: 

"  To  learned  Mead  thus  Hanmer  spoke, 

11  Doctor,  this  empty  scroll's  a  joke. 

"  Something  it  doubtless  should  contain, 

"  Extremely  short,  extremely  plain ; 

"  But  wondrous  deep,  and  wondrous  pat, 

"  And  fit  for  Shakspeare  to  point  at ;"  &c.     Ma  lone. 

At  Drury  Lane  was  acted  Julius  Ccesar,  28  April,  1738, 
when  a  prologue  written  by  Benjamin  Martyn,  Esq.  was  spoken 
by  Mr.  Quin,  and  an  epilogue  by  James  Noel,  Esa.  spoken  by 
Mrs.  Porter.  Both  these  are  printed  in  The  General  Dictionary. 
At  Covent  Garden  was  acted  Hamlet,  10th  April,  1739,  when  a 
prologue  written  by  Mr.  Theobald,  and  printed  in  The  London 
Magazine  of  that  year,  was  spoken  by  Mr.  Kyan.  In  the  news- 
paper of  the  day  it  was  observed  that  this  last  representation  was 
far  from  being  numerously  attended.     Reed. 


126        ADDITIONAL  ANECDOTES 

fruits  of  observation  he  has  presented  us  in  his 
preface  to  the  edition  he  had  published  of  our 
poet's  works.  He  replied — "  There  might  be  in 
the  garden  of  mankind  such  plants  as  would  seem 
to  pride  themselves  more  in  a  regular  production 
of  their  own  native  fruits,  than  iu  having  the  re- 
pute of  bearing  a  richer  kind  by  grafting;  and  this 
was  the  reason  he  omitted  it."8 

The  same  story,  without  the  names  of  the  per- 
sons, is  printed  among  the  jests  of  John  Taylor  the 
Water-poet,  in  his  works,  folio,  1630,  p.  184, 
N°  39 :  and,  with  some  variations,  may  be  found 
in  one  of  Hearne's  pocket  books.9 


'  '  and  this  was  the  reason  he  omitted  it.~\  Mr.  Oldys 
might  have  added,  that  he  was  the  person  who  suggested  to  Mr. 
Pope  the  singular  course  which  he  pursued  in  his  edition  of 
Shakspeare.  "  Remember,"  says  Oldys  in  a  MS.  note  to  his 
copy  of  Langbaine,  Article,  Shakspeare.  "  what  I  observed  to 
my  Lord  Oxford  for  Mr.  Pope's  use,  out  of  Cowley's  preface." 
The  observation  here  alluded  to,  I  believe,  is  one  made  by 
Cowley  in  his  preface,  p.  53,  edit.  1/10,  8vo:  "  This  has  been 
the  case  with  Shakspeare,  Fletcher,  Jonson,  and  many  others, 
part  of  whose  poems  I  should  presume  to  take  the  boldness  to 
prune  and  lop  away,  if  the  care  of  replanting  them  in  print  did 
belong  to  me ;  neither  would  I  make  any  scruple  to  cut  off  from 
some  the  unnecessary  young  suckers,  and  from  others  the  old 
withered  branches ;  for  a  great  wit  is  no  more  tied  to  live  in  a 
vast  volume,  than  in  a  gigantick  body;  on  the  contrary  it  is 
commonly  more  vigorous  the  less  space  it  animates,  and  as 
Statius  says  of  little  Tydeus, — 

'*  — - — — —  totos  infusa  per  artus, 

"  Major  in  exiguo  regnabat  corpore  virtus." 

Pope  adopted  this  very  unwarrantable  idea;  striking  out  from 
the  text  of  his  author  whatever  he  did  not  like :  and  Cowley 
himself  has  suffered  a  sort  of  poetical  punishment  for  having  sug- 
gested it,  the  learned  Bishop  of  Worcester  [Dr.  Hurd]  having 
pruned  and  lopped  away  his  beautiful  luxuriances,  as  Pope,  on 
Cowley's  suggestion,  did  those  of  Shakspeare.     Malone. 

•  The  same  story — may  be  found  in  one  of  Hearne's  pocket 
looks.]  Antony  Wood  is  the  first  and  original  author  of  the  anec- 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       127 
"  One  of  Shakspeare's  younger  brothers,1  who 

dote  that  Shakspeare,  in  his  journies  from  Warwickshire  to  Lon- 
don, used  to  bait  at  the  Crown-Inn  on  the  west  side  of  the  corn 
market  in  Oxford.  He  says,  that  D'Avenant  the  poet  was  born 
in  that  house  in  J0o6.  "  His  father  (he  adds)  John  Davenant, 
was  a  sufficient  vintner,  kept  the  tavern  now  known  by  the  sign 
of  the  Crown,  and  was  mayor  of  the  said  city  in  10*21.  His 
mother  was  a  very  beautiful  woman,  of  a  good  wit  and  conver- 
sation, in  which  she  was  imitated  by  none  of  her  children  but 
by  this  William  [the  poet].  The  father,  who  was  a  very  grave 
and  discreet  citizen,  (yet  an  admirer  and  lover  of  plays  and 
play-makers,  especially  Shakspeare,  who  frequented  his  house  in 
his  journies  between  Warwickshire  and  London,)  was  of  a  me- 
lancholick  disposition,  and  was  seldom  or  never  seen  to  laugh,  in 
which  he  was  imitated  by  none  of  his  children  but  by  Robert 
his  eldest  son,  afterwards  fellow  of  St.  John's  College,  and  a  ve- 
nerable Doctor  of  Divinity."  Wood's  Ath.  Oxon.  Vol.  II.  p.  292, 
edit.  1692.  I  will  not  suppose  that  Shakspeare  could  have  been 
the  father  of  a  Doctor  of  Divinity  who  never  laughed ;  but  it 
was  always  a  constant  tradition  in  Oxford  that  Shakspeare  was 
the  father  of  Davenant  the  poet.  And  I  have  seen  this  circum- 
stance expressly  mentioned  in  some  of  Wood's  papers.  Wood 
was  well  qualified  to  know  these  particulars;  for  he  was  a  towns- 
man of  Oxford,  where  he  was  born  in  1632.  Wood  says,  that 
Davenant  went  to  school  in  Oxford.     JJbi  supr. 

As  to  the  Craven  Inn,  it  still  remains  as  an  inn,  and  is  an  old 
decayed  house,  but  probably  was  once  a  principal  inn  in  Oxford. 
It  is  directly  in  the  road  from  Stratford  to  London.  In  a  large 
upper  room,  which  seems  to  have  been  a  sort  of  Hall  for  enter- 
taining a  large  company,  or  for  accommodating  (as  was  the 
custom)  different  parties  at  once,  there  was  a  bow-window,  with 
three  pieces  of  excellent  painted  glass.  About  eight  years  ago, 
I  remember  visiting  this  room,  and  proposing  to  purchase  of  the 
landlord  the  painted  glass,  which  would  have  been  a  curiosity  as 
coming  from  Shakspeare *s  inn.  But  going  thither  soon  after,  I 
found  it  was  removed ;  the  inn-keeper  having  communicated 
my  intended  bargain  to  the  owner  of  the  house,  who  began  to 
suspect  that  he  was  possessed  of  a  curiosity  too  valuable  to  be 

Earted  with,  or  to  remain  in  such  a  place  :  and  I  never  could 
ear  of  it  afterwards.  If  I  remember  right,  the  painted  glass 
consisted  of  three  armorial  shields  beautifully  stained.  I  have 
said  so  much  on  this  subject,  because  I  think  that  Shakspeare's 
old  hostelry  at  Oxford  deserves  no  less  respect  than  Chaucer's 
Tabarde  in  Southwark.     T.  Warton. 


128        ADDITIONAL  ANECDOTES 

lived  to  a  good  old  age,  even  some  years2  as  I 
compute,  after  the  restoration  of  King  Charles  II. 
would  in  his  younger  days  come  to  London  to  visit 
his  brother  Will,  as  he  called  him,  and  be  a  spec- 
tator of  him  as  an  actor  in  some  of  his  own  plays. 
This  custom,  as  his  brother's  fame  enlarged,  and 

1  One  of  Shakspeare's  younger  brothers,  &c]  Mr.  Oldys  seems 
to  have  studied  the  art  of  "  marring  a  plain  tale  in  the  telling 
of  it ;"  for  he  has  in  this  story  introduced  circumstances  which 
tend  to  diminish,  instead  of  adding  to,  its  credibility.  Male 
dum  recitas,  incipit  esse  tuns.  From  Shakspeare's  not  taking 
notice  of  any  of  nis  brothers  or  sisters  in  his  will,  except  Joan 
Hart,  I  think  it  highly  probable  that  they  were  all  dead  in  1616, 
except  her,  at  least  all  those  of  the  whole  blood ;  though  in  the 
Register  there  is  no  entry  of  the  burial  of  either  his  brother  Gil- 
bert, or  Edmund,  antecedent  to  the  death  of  Shakspeare,  or  at 
any  subsequent  period. 

The  truth  is,  that  this  account  of  our  poet's  having  performed 
the  part  of  an  old  man  in  one  of  his  own  comedies,  came  ori- 
ginally from  Mr.  Thomas  Jones,  of  Tarbick,  in  Worcestershire, 
who  has  been  already  mentioned,  (see  p.  62,  n.  1,)  and  who  re- 
lated it  from  the  information,  not  of  one  of  Shakspeare's  bro- 
thers, but  of  a  relation  of  our  poet,  who  lived  to  a  good  old  age, 
and  who  had  seen  him  act  in  his  youth.  Mr.  Jones's  informer 
might  have  been  Mr.  Richard  Quiney,  who  lived  in  London, 
and  died  at  Stratford  in  1656,  at  the  age  of  69  ;  or  Mr.  Thomas 
Quiney,  our  poet's  son-in-law,  who  lived,  I  believe,  till  166$, 
and  was  twenty-seven  years  old  when  his  father-in-law  died;  or 
some  one  of  the  family  of  Hathaway.  Mr.  Thomas  Hathaway,  I 
believe  Shakspeare's  brother-in-law,  died  at  Stratford  in  1654-5, 
at  the  age  of  85. 

There  was  a  Thomas  Jones,  an  inhabitant  of  Stratford,  who 
between  the  years  1581  and  1590  had  four  sons,  Henry,  James, 
Edmund,  and  Isaac :  some  one  of  these,  it  is  probable,  settled 
at  Tarbick,  and  was  the  father  of  Thomas  Jones,  the  relater  of 
this  anecdote,  who  was  born  about  the  year  1613. 

If  any  of  Shakspeare's  brothers  lived  till  after  the  Restoration, 
and  visited  the  players,  why  were  we  not  informed  to  what 
player  he  related  it,  and  from  what  player  Mr.  Oldys  had  his 
account?  The  fact,  I  believe,  is,  he  had  it  not  from  a  player, 
but  from  the  above-mentioned  Mr.  Jones,  who  likewise  commu- 
nicated the  stanza  of -the  ballad  on  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  which  ha6 
been  printed  in  a  former  page.     Malone. 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       129 

his  dramatick  entertainments  grew  the  greatest 
support  of  our  principal,  if  not  of  all  our  theatres, 
he  continued  it  seems  so  long  after  his  brother's 
death,  as  even  to  the  latter  end  of  his  own  life. 
The  curiosity  at  this  time  of  the  most  noted  actors 
[exciting  them]  to  learn  something  from  him  of 
his  brother,  &c.  they  justly  held  him  in  the  highest 
veneration.  And  it  may  be  well  believed,  as  there 
was  besides  a  kinsman  and  descendant  of  the 
family,  who  was  then  a  celebrated  actor  among 
them,  [Charles  Hart*  See  Shakspeare's  Will.]  this 
opportunity  made  them  greedily  inquisitive  into 
every  little  circumstance,  more  especially  in  his 
dramatick  character,  which  his  brother  could  re- 
late of  him.  But  he,  it  seems,  was  so  stricken  in 
years,  and  possibly  his  memory  so  weakened  with 
infirmities,  (which  might  make  him  the  easier 
pass  for  a  man  of  weak  intellects,)  that  he  could 
give  them  but  little  light  into  their  enquiries  ;  and 
all  that  could  be  recollected  from  him  of  his  bro- 
ther Will,  in  that  station  was,  the  faint,  general, 
and  almost  lost  ideas  he  had  of  having  once  seen 
him  act  a  part  in  one  of  his  own  comedies,  where- 
in being  to  personate  a  decrepit  old  man,  he  wore 
a  long  beard,  and  appeared  so  weak  and  drooping 
and  unable  to  walk,  that  he  was  forced  to  be  sup- 
ported and  carried  by  another  person  to  a  table,  at 


•  — —  Charles  Hart."]  Mr.  Charles  Hart  the  player  was  born, 
I  believe,  about  the  year  1630,  and  died  in  or  about  16S2.  If 
he  was  a  grandson  of  Shakspeare's  sister,  he  was  probably  the 
son  of  Michael  Hart,  her  youngest  son,  of  whose  marriage  or 
death  there  is  no  account  in  the  parish  Register  of  Stratford, 
and  therefore  I  suspect  he  settled  in  London.     Malone. 

Charles  Hart  died  in  August,  1663,  and  was  buried  at  Stan- 
more  the  20th  of  that  month.  Lysons's  Environs  of  London, 
Vol.  III.  p.  400.    Reed. 

VOL.  I.  K 


130       ADDITIONAL  ANECDOTES. 

which  he  was  seated  among  some  company,  who 
were  eating,  and  one  of  them  sung  a  song."  See 
the  character  of  Adam,  in  As  you  like  it,  Act  II. 
sc.  ult. 


"  Verses  by  Ben  Jonson  and  Shakspeare,  occa- 
sioned by  the  motto  to  the  Globe  Theatre — Totys 
mundus  agit  histrionem. 

Jonson. 

'  If,  but  stage  actors,  all  the  world  displays, 
'  Where  shall  we  find  spectators  of  their  plays?' 

Shakspeare, 

«  Little,  or  much,  of  what  we  see,  we  do ; 
*  We  are  all  both  actors  and  spectators  too.' 

Poetical  Characteristicks,  8vo.  MS.  Vol.  I.  some 
time  in  the  Harleian  Library;  which  volume  was 
returned  to  its  owner." 


"  Old  Mr.  Bowman  the  player  reported  from  Sir 
William  Bishop,  that  some  part  of  Sir  John  Fal- 
staff's  character  was  drawn  from  a  townsman  of 
Stratford,  who  either  faithlessly  broke  a  contract, 
or  spitefully  refused  to  part  with  some  land  for  a 
valuable  consideration,  adjoining  to  Shakspeare's, 
in  or  near  that  town." 


To  these  anecdotes  I  can  only  add  the  follow- 
ing. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  advertisement  prefixed 
to  Lintot's  edition  of  Shakspeare's  Poems,  it  is 
said,  "  That  most  learned  prince  and  great  patron 
of  learning,  King  James  the  First,  was  pleased  with 


OF  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE.       131 

his  own  hand  to  write  an  amicable  letter  to  Mr. 
Shakspeare  ;  which  letter,  though  now  lost,  re- 
mained long  in  the  hands  of  Sir  William  D'Ave- 
nant,3  as  a  credible  person  now  living  can  testify." 
Mr.  Oldys,  in  a  MS.  note  to  his  copy  of  Fuller's 
Worthiest  observes,  that  "  the  story  came  from  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  who  had  it  from  Sir  Wil- 
liam D'Avenant." 


It  appears  from  Roscius  Anglicanus,  (commonly 
called  Downes  the  prompter's  book,)  1708,  that 
Shakspeare  took  the  pains  to  instruct  Joseph  Taylor 
in  the  character  of  Hamlet,  and  John  Lowine  in 
that  of  King  Henry  VIII.     Steevens. 


The  late  Mr.  Thomas  Osborne,  bookseller, 
(whose  exploits  are  celebrated  by  the  author  of 
the  Dunciad,)  being  ignorant  in  what  form  or  lan- 
guage our  Paradise  Lost  was  written,  employed 
one  of  his  garretteers  to  render  it  from  a  French 
translation  into  English  prose.  Lest,  hereafter, 
the  compositions  of  Shakspeare  should  be  brought 
back  into  their  native  tongue  from  the  version  of 
Monsieur  le  Compte  de  Catuelan,  le  Tourneur,  &c. 
it  may  be  necessary  to  observe,  that  all  the  follow- 
ing particulars,  extracted  from  the  preface  of  these 
gentlemen,  are  as  little  founded.in  truth  as  their 
description  of  the  ridiculous  Jubilee  at  Stratford, 


' xvhich  letter,  though  now  lost,  remained  long  in  the 

hands  of  Sir  William  D'Avenant.]  Dr.  Farmer  with  great  pro- 
bability supposes  that  this  letter  was  written  by  Kings  James  in 
return  for  the  compliment  paid  to  him  in  Macbeth.  The  relater 
of  this  anecdote  was  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

Malone. 

K  2 


J  32    ADDITIONAL  ANECDOTES,  &c. 

which  they  have  been  taught  to  represent  as  an 
affair  of  general  approbation  and  national  concern. 

They  say,  that  Shakspeare  came  to  London  with- 
out a  plan,  and  finding  himself  at  the  door  of  a 
theatre,  instinctively  stopped  there,  and  offered 
himself  to  be  a  holder  of  horses : — that  he  was 
remarkable  for  his  excellent  performance  of  the 
Ghost  in  Hamlet: — that  he  borrowed  nothing  from 
preceding  writers : — that  all  on  a  sudden  he  left 
the  stage,  and  returned  without  eclat  into  his  na- 
tive country: — that  his  monument  at  Stratford  is 
of  copper : — that  the  courtiers  of  James  I.  paid 
several  compliments  to  him  which  are  still  pre- 
served : — that  he  relieved  a  widow,  who,  together 
with  her  numerous  family,  was  involved  in  a  ruin- 
ous lawsuit : — that  his  editors  have  restored  many 
passages  in  his  plays,  by  the  assistance  of  the  ma- 
nuscripts he  left  behina  him,  &c.  &c. 

Let  me  not,  however,  forget  the  justice  due  to 
these  ingeniousFrenchmen,  whose  skill  and  fidelity 
in  the  execution  of  their  very  difficult  undertaking, 
is  only  exceeded  by  such  a  display  of  candour  as 
would  serve  to  cover  the  imperfections  of  much 
less  elegant  and  judicious  writers.     Steevens. 


STRATFORD  REGISTER. 


Baptisms,  Marriages,  and  Burials,  of  the  Shak- 
speare  Family;  transcribed  from  the  Register- 
Books  of  the  Parish  qf  Stratford-upon-Avon, 
Warwickshire.4 

JONE,*  daughter  of  John  Shakspere,  was  bap- 
tized Sept.  15,  1558. 

Margaret,  daughter  of  John  Shakspere,  was  buried 
April  30,  1563. 

WILLIAM,  Son  of  John  Shakspere,  was  baptized 
April  26,  1564.6 

Johanna,  daughter  of  Richard  Hathaway,  other- 
wise Gardiner,  of  Shottery,7  was  baptized 
May  9,  1566. 


4  An  inaccurate  and  very  imperfect  list  of  the  baptisms,  &c. 
of  Shakspeare's  family  was  transmitted  by  Mr.  West  about 
eighteen  years  ago  to  Mr.  Steevens.  The  list  now  printed  I 
have  extracted  with  great  care  from  the  Registers  of  Stratford; 
and  I  trust,  it  will  be  found  correct.     Malone. 

*  This  lady  Mr.  West  supposed  to  have  married  the  ancestor 
of  the  Harts  of  Stratford;  but  he  was  certainly  mistaken.  She 
died  probably  in  her  infancy.  The  wife  of  Mr.  Hart  was  un- 
doubtedly the  second  Jone,  mentioned  below.  Her  son  Michael 
was  born  in  the  latter  end  of  the  year  1608,  at  which  time  she 
was  above  thirty-nine  years  old.  The  elder  Jone  would  then 
have  been  near  fifty.     Malonb. 

•  He  was  born  three  days  before,  April  23, 1564.     Malone. 

7  This  Richard  Hathaway  of  Shottery  was  probably  the  father 
to  Anne  Hathaway,  our  poet's  wife.  There  is  no  entry  of  her 
baptism,  the  Register  not  commencing  till  1558,  two  years  after 
•he  was  born.    Thomas,  the  son  of  this  Richard  Hathaway, 


134  STRATFORD  REGISTER 

Gilbert,  son  of  John  Shakspere,  was  baptized  Oct. 

f,  1566. 
daughter  of  John  Shakspere,  was  baptized 
April  15,  1569. 

Anne,  daughter  of  Mr.  John  Shakspere,  was  bap- 
tized Sept.  28,  1571. 

Richard,  son  of  Mr.  John  Shakspere,  was  baptized 
March  11,  1573.   [1573-4.] 

Anne,  daughter  of  Mr.  John  Shakspere,  was  buried 
April  4,  1579. 

Edmund,  son  of  Mr.  John  Shakspere,  was  bap- 
tized May  3,  1580. 

Susanna,  daughter  of  William  Shakspere,  was 
baptized  May  26,  1583. 

Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Anthony  Shakspere,  of 
Hampton,9  was  baptized  February  10,  1583. 
[1583-4.] 

was  baptized  at  Stratford,  April  12,  1569;  John,  another  son, 
Feb.  3,  1574  ;  and  William,  another,  son,  Nov.  30,  1578. 

Malone. 

•  It  was  common  in  the  age  of  Queen  Elizabeth  to  give  the 
same  christian  name  to  two  children  successively.  (Thus,  Mr. 
Sadler,  who  was  godfather  to  Shakspeare's  son,  had  two  sons 
who  were  baptized  by  the  name  of  John.  See  note  1.)  This 
was  undoubtedly  done  in  the  present  instance.  The  former  Jone 
having  probably  died,  (thougn  I  can  find  no  entry  of  her  burial 
in  the  Register,  nor  indeed  of  many  of  the  other  children  of  John 
Shakspeare)  the  name  of  Jone,  a  very  favourite  one  in  those 
days,  was  transferred  to  another  new-born  child.  This  latter  Jone 
"married  Mr.  William  Hart,  a  hatter  in  Stratford,  some  time,  as 
I  conjecture,  in  the  year  1599,  when  she  was  thirty  years  old; 
for  her  eldest  son  William  was  baptized  there,  August  28, 1600. 
There  is  no  entry  of  her  marriage  in  the  Register.     Malone. 

9  There  was  also  a  Mr.  Henry  Shakspeare  settled  at  Hamp- 
ton-Lucy, as  appears  from  the  Register  of  that  parish : 

15S2 Lettice,  daughter  of  Henry  Shakspeare,  was  baptized. 

1585 James,  son  of  Henry  Shakspeare,  was  baptized. 

1589 James,  son  of  Henry  Shakspeare,  was  buried. 

There  was  a  Thomas  Shakspeare  settled  at  Warwick ;  for  in 


STRATFORD  REGISTER.  135 

John  Shakspere  and  Margery  Roberts  were  mar- 
ried Nov.  25,  1584. 

Hamnet1  and  Judith,  son  and  daughter  of  Wil- 
liam Shakspere,  were  baptized  February  2, 
1584.   [15S4-5.] 

Margery,  wife  of  John  Shakspere,  was  buried  Oct. 
29,  1587. 


the  Rolls  Chapel  I  found  the  inrolment  of  a  deed  made  in  the 
44th  year  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  conveying  **  to  Thomas  Shak- 
speare  of  Warwick,  yeoman,  Sachbroke,  alias  Bishop-Sach- 
broke,  in  Com.  Warw."     M alone. 

1  Mr.  West  imagined  that  our  poet's  only  son  was  christened 
by  the  name  of  Samuel,  but  he  was  mistaken.  Mr.  Hamnet 
Sadler,  who  was  related,  if  I  mistake  not,  to  the  Shakspeare 
family,  appears  to  have  been  sponsor  for  his  son ;  and  his  wife, 
Mrs.  Judith  Sadler,  to  have  been  godmother  to  Judith,  the  other 
twin-child.  The  name  Hamnet  is  written  very  distinctly  both  in 
the  entry  of  the  baptism  and  burial  of  this  child.  Hamnet  and 
Hamlet  seem  to  have  been  considered  as  the  same  name,  and  to 
have  been  used  indiscriminately  both  in  speaking  and  writing. 
Thus,  this  Mr.  Hamnet  Sadler,  who  is  a  witness  to  Shakspeare  s 
Will,  writes  his  christian  name,  Hamnet ;  but  the  scrivener  who 
drew  up  the  will,  writes  it  Hamlet.  There  is  the  same  variation 
in  the  Register  of  Stratford,  where  the  name  is  spelt  in  three  or 
four  different  ways.  Thus,  among  the  baptisms  we  find,  in 
1591,  "  May  26,  John,  filius  Hamletti  Sadler;"  and  in  1563, 
"  Sept.  13,  Margaret,  daughter  to  Hamlet  Sadler."  But  in  1588, 
Sept.  20,  we  find  "John,  son  to  Hamnet  Sadler;"  in  1596, 
April  4,  we  have  "  Judith,  filia  Hamnet  Sadler;"  in  1597-8, 
"Feb.  3,  Wilhelmus,  filius  Hambnet  Sadler;"  and  in  1 5gg, 
"April  23,  Francis,  filius  Hamnet  Sadler."  This  Mr.  Sadler 
died  in  1624,  and  the  entry  of  his  burial  stands  thus:  "  J 024, 
Oct.  26,  Hamlet  Sadler."  So  also  in  that  of  his  wife:  "  1623, 
March  23,  Judith,  uxor  Hamlet  Sadler." 

The  name  of  Hamlet  occurs  in  several  other  entries  in  the 
Register.  Oct.  4,  1576,  "  Hamlet,  son  to  Humphry  Holdar," 
was  buried;  and  Sept.  28,  1504,  "  Catharina,  uxor  Hamoleti 
Hassal."  Mr.  Hamlet  Smith,  formerly  of  the  borough  of  Strat- 
ford, is  one  of  the  benefactors  annually  commemorated  there. 

Our  poet's  only  son,  Hamnet,  died  in  1 596,  in  the  twelfth 
year  of  his  age.     Ma  lone. 


136  STRATFORD  REGISTER. 

Thomas,4  son  of  Richard  Queeny,  was  baptized 

Feb.  26,  1588.  [1588-9.] 
Ursula,3  daughter  of  John  Shakspere,  was  baptized 

March  11,  1588.  [1588-9.] 
Thomas   Greene,    alias  Shakspere,4   was   buried 

March  6,  1589.   [1589-90.] 

•  This  gentleman  married  our  poet's  youngest  daughter.  He 
had  three  sisters,  Elizabeth,  Anne,  and  Mary,  and  five  bro- 
thers; Adrian,  born  in  1586,  Richard,  born  in  1587,  William, 
born  in  1593,  John  in  1597,  and  George,  baptized  April  9, 
16OO.  George  was  curate  of  the  parish  of  Stratford,  and  died 
of  a  consumption.  He  was  buried  there  April  II,  1624.  In 
Doctor  Hall's  pocket-book  is  the  following  entry  relative  to  him : 
"  36,  Mr.  Quiney,  tussi  gravi  cum  magna  phlegmatis  copia,  et 
cibi  vomitu,  feb.  lenta  debilitatus,"  &c.  The  case  concludes 
thus:  "Anno  seq.  (no  year  is  mentioned  in  the  case,  but  the 
preceding  case  is  dated  1624,)  in  hoc  malum  incidebat.  Multa 
frustra  tentata ; — placide  cum  Domino  dormit.  Fuit  boni  indo- 
lis,  et  pro  juveni-omnifariam  doctus."     Malone. 

'  This  Ursula,  and  her  brothers,  Humphrey  and  Philip,  ap- 
pear to  have  been  the  children  of  John  Shakspeare  by  Mary,  his 
third  wife,  though  no  such  marriage  is  entered  in  the  Register. 
I  have  not  been  able  to  learn  her  surname,  or  in  what  church 
she  was  married.     She  died  in  Sept.  1608. 

It  has  been  suggested  to  me  that  the  John  Shakspeare  here 
mentioned  was  an  elder  brother  of  our  poet,  (not  his  father,) 
born,  like  Margaret  Shakspeare,  before  the  commencement  of 
the  Register :  but  had  this  been  the  case,  he  probably  would  have 
been  called  John  the  younger,  old  Mr.  Shakspeare  being  alive  in 
1569.  I  am  therefore  of  opinion  that  our  poet's  father  was 
meant,  and  that  he  was  thrice  married.     Malone. 

4  A  great  many  names  occur  in  this  Register,  with  an  alias, 
the  meaning  of  which  it  is  not  very  easy  to  ascertain.  I  should 
have  supposed  that  the  persons  thus  described  were  illegitimate, 
and  that  this  Thomas  Greene  was  the  son  of  one  of  our  poet's 
kinsmen,  by  a  daughter  of  Thomas  Greene,  Esq.  a  gentleman 
who  resided  in  Stratford;  but  that  in  the  Register  we  frequently 
find  the  word  bastard  expressly  added  to  the  names  of  the 
children  baptized.  Perhaps  this  latter  form  was  only  used  in  the 
case  of  servants,  labourers,  &c.  and  the  illegitimate  offspring  of 
the  higher  order  was  more  delicately  denoted  by  an  alias. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Davenport  observes  to  rae  tfcat  there  are  two 


STRATFORD  REGISTER.  137 

Humphrey,  son  of  John  Shakspere,  was  baptized 

May  24,  1590. 
Philip,  son  of  John  Shakspere,  was  baptized  Sept. 

21,  1591. 
Thomas,5  son  of  Mr.  Anthony  Nash,  was  baptized 

June  20,  1593. 
Hamnet,  son  of  William  Shakspeare,  was  buried 

Aug.  11,  1596. 
William,  son  of  William  Hart,  was  baptized  Aug. 

28,  1600. 
Mr.  John  Shakspeare  was  buried  Sept.  8,  1601. 
Mr.   Richard  Quiney,6  Bailiff  of  Stratford,  was 

buried  May  31,  1602. 
Mary,  daughter  of  William  Hart,  was  baptized 

June  5,  1 603. 
Thomas,  son  of  William  Hart,  hatter,  was  baptized 

July  24,  1605. 
John  Hall,  gentleman,  and  Susanna  Shakspere, 

were  married  June  5,  1607. 


families  at  present  in  Stratford,  (and  probably  several  more)  that 
are  distinguished  by  an  alias.  "  The  real  name  of  one  of  these 
families  is  Roberts,  but  they  generally  go  by  the  name  of  Burford. 
The  ancestor  of  the  family  came  originally  from  Burford  in  Ox- 
fordshire, and  was  frequently  called  from  this  circumstance  by 
the  name  of  Burford.  This  name  has  prevailed,  and  they  are 
always  now  called  by  it;  but  they  write  their  name,  Roberts, 
alias  Burford,  and  are  so  entered  in  the  Register. 

**  The  real  name  of  the  other  family  is  Smith,  but  they  are 
more  known  by  the  name  of  Buck.  The  ancestor  of  this  fa- 
mily, from  some  circumstance  or  other,  obtained  the  nickname 
of  Buck,  and  they  now  write  themselves,  Smith,  alias  Buck." 

Ma  LONE. 

*  This  gentleman  married  our  poet's  grand-daughter,  Eliza- 
beth Hall.  His  father,  Mr.  Anthony  Nash,  lived  at  Welcombe, 
(where  he  had  an  estate,)  as  appears  by  the  following  entry  of 
the  baptism  of  another  of  his  sons:  "  1599,  Oct.  15,  John,  son 
to  Mr.  Anthony  Nash,  of  Wtlcombe."     Ma  lone. 

a  This  was  the  father  of  Mr.  Thomas  Quiney,  who  married 
Shakspcare's  youngest  daughter.     Ma  lone. 


138  STRATFORD  REGISTER. 

Mary,  daughter  of  William  Hart,  was  buried  Dec. 
17,  1607. 

Elizabeth,  daughter  of  John  Hall,  gentleman,  was 
baptized  Feb.  21,  1607.  [1607-8.] 

Mary  Shakspere,  widow,  was  buried  Sept.  9,  1608. 

Michael,  son  of  William  Hart,  was  baptized  Sept. 
23,  1608. 

Gilbert  Shakspeare,  adolescens,7  was  buried  Feb.  3, 
1611.  [1611-12.] 

Richard  Shakspere,  was  buried  February  4,  1612. 
[1612-13.] 

Thomas  Queeny  and  Judith  Shakspere8  were  mar- 
ried Feb.  10,  1615.  [1615-16.] 

William  Hart,9  hatter,  was  buried  April  17, 1616. 

7  This  was  probably  a  son  of  Gilbert  Shakspeare,  our  poet's 
brother.  When  the  elder  Gilbert  died,  the  Register  does  not 
inform  us ;  but  he  certainly  died  before  his  son.     Malone. 

8  This  lady,  who  was  our  poet's  youngest  daughter,  appears 
to  have  married  without  her  father's  knowledge,  for  he  mentions 
her  in  his  will  as  unmarried.  Mr.  West,  as  I  have  already  ob- 
served, was  mistaken  in  supposing  she  was  married  in  Feb.  \6l6, 
that  is,  in  1616-17.  She  was  certainly  married  before  her  fa- 
ther's death.  See  a  former  note  in  p.  92,  in  which  the  entry  is 
given  exactly  as  it  stands  in  the  Register. 

As  Shakspeare  the  poet  married  his  wife  from  Shottery,  Mr. 
West  conjectured  he  might  have  become  possessed  of  a  remark- 
able house,  and  jointly  with  his  wife  conveyed  it  as  a  part  of  their 
daughter  Judith's  portion  to  Thomas  Queeny.  "  It  is  certain," 
Mr.  West  adds,  "  that  one  Queeny,  an  elderly  gentleman,  sold 

it  to Harvey,  Esq.  of  Stockton,  near  Southam,  Warwick-  ' 

shire,  father  of  John  Harvey  Thursby,  Esq.  of  Abington,  near 
Northampton ;  and  that  the  aforesaid  Harvey  sold  it  again  to 
Samuel  Tyler,  Esq.  whose  sisters,  as  his  heirs,  now  enjoy  it." 

But  how  could  Shakspeare  have  conveyed  this  house,  if  he 
ever  owned  it,  to  Mr.  Queeny,  as  a  marriage  portion  with  his 
daughter,  concerning  whom  there  is  the  following  clause  in  his 
will,  executed  one  month  before  his  death  :  "  Provided  that  if 
such  husband  as  she  shall  at  the  end  of  the  said  three  years  be 
married  unto,"  &c.     Malone. 

9  This  William  Hart  was  our  poet's  brother-in-law.  He  died, 
it  appears,  a  few  days  before  Shakspeare.    Malone. 


STRATFORD  REGISTER.  1S9 

WILLIAM  SHAKSPERE,1  gentleman,  was  bu- 
ried April  25,2  1616. 
Shakspere,  son  of  Thomas  Quiney,  gentleman,  was 

baptized  Nov.  23,  1616. 
Shakspere,  son  of  Thomas  Quiney,  gentleman,  was 

buried  May  8,  1617. 
Richard,  son  of  Thomas  Quiney,  was  baptized  Feb. 

9,  1617.   [1617-18.] 
Thomas,  son  of  Thomas  Quiney,  was  baptized 

Aug.  29,  1619. 
Anthony  Nash,  Esq.3  was  buried  Nov.  18,  1622. 
Mrs.  Shakspere4  was  buried  Aug.  8,  1623. 
Mr.  Thomas  Nash  was  married  to  Mrs.  Elizabeth 

Hall,  April  22,  1626. 
Thomas,5  son  of  Thomas  Hart,  was  baptized  April 

13,  1634. 
Dr.  John  Hall,6  ["  medicus  peritissimus,"]  was 

buried  Nov.  26,  1635. 


1  He  died,  as  appears  from  his  monument,  April  23d. 

Malone. 

*  No  one  hath  protracted  the  Life  of  Shakspeare  beyond  l6l6, 
except  Mr.  Hume ;  who  is  pleased  to  add  a  year  to  it,  contrary 
to  all  manner  of  evidence.     Farmer. 

'  Father  of  Mr.  Thomas  Nash,  the  husband  of  Elizabeth  Hall. 

Malone. 

*  This  lady,  who  was  the  poet's  widow,  and  whose  maiden 
name  was  Anne  Hathaway,  died,  as  appears  from  her  tomb-stone 
(see  p.  6l,  n.  g.)  at  the  age  of  67,  and  consequently  was  near 
eight  years  older  than  her  husband.  I  have  not  been  able  to 
ascertain  when  or  where  they  were  married,  but  suspect  the  ce- 
remony was  performed  at  Hampton-Lucy,  or  Billesley,  in  Au- 
gust, 1582.   Die  register  of  the  latter  parish  is  lost.    Malone. 

*  It  appears  from  Lady  Barnard's  will  that  this  Thomas  Hart 
was  alive  in  1 669.  The  Register  does  not  ascertain  the  time  of 
his  death,  nor  that  of  his  father.    Malone. 

6  It  has  been  supposed  that  the  family  of  Miller  of  Hide-Hall, 


140  STRATFORD  REGISTER. 

George,  son  of  Thomas  Hart,  was  baptized  Sept. 

18,  1636. 
Thomas,  son  of  Thomas  Quiney,  was  buried  Jan. 

28,  1638.   [1638-9.] 


in  the  county  of  Herts,  were  descended  from  Dr.  Hall's  daugh- 
ter Elizabeth  ;  and  to  prove  this  fact,  the  following  pedigree  was 
transmitted  some  years  ago  by  Mr.  Whalley  to  Mr.  Steevens : 

John  Hall  =  Susanna,  daughter  and  co-heiress  of 
William  Shakspeare. 


Elizabeth  Hall  =  Thomas  Nash,  Esq. 
I 

A  daughter  =  Sir  Reginald  Forster,  of  Warwickshire. 


Franklyn  Miller = Jane  Forster. 
Of  Hide-Hall,  " 
Co.  Hertford. 


Miller  =: 


Nicholas  Miller  =  Mary 


Nicholas  Franklyn  Miller  of  Hide- 
Hall,  the  only  surviving  branch 
of  the  family  of  Miller. 

But  this  pedigree  is  founded  on  a  mistake,  and  there  is  un- 
doubtedly no  lineal  descendant  of  Shakspeare  now  living.  The 
mistake  was,  the  supposing  that  Sir  Reginald  Forster  married  a 
daughter  of  Mr.  Thomas  Nash  and  Elizabeth  Hall,  who  had  no 
issue,  either  by  that  gentleman  or  her  second  husband,  Sir  John 
Barnard.  Sir  Reginald  Forster  married  the  daughter  of  Edward 
Nash,  Esq.  of  East  Greenwich,  in  the  county  of  Kent,  cousin- 
german  to  Mr.  Thomas  Nash ;  and  the  pedigree  ought  to  have 
been  formed  thus : 


STRATFORD  REGISTER. 


141 


Richard,  son  of  Thomas  Quiney,  was  buried  Feb. 
26,  1638.  [1638-9.] 


Anthony  Nash  =  |"  Geor«e  Nash  =  |  j 


Tho.  Nash  =  Elizabeth  Hall  =  Sir  John  Barnard. 


J 


Edward  Nash 


Thomas  Nash.  Jane  Nash.  Mary  Nash  =  Reginald  Forster,  Edt. 

I   afterwards    Sir    Regi- 
nald Forster,  Bart. 

Reginald  Forster.  Mary  Forster.  Franklyn  Miller = Jane  Forster. 

of  Hide-Hall,  I 
Co.  Hertford.  | 

Will.  Norcliffe,  Esq.  as  Jane  Miller.  Nicholas  Miller  =  Mary  — . 


Nicholas  Franklyn  Miller.  = 


■■  Mundy,  Esq.=- 


~1 
Miller. 


i 


dward  Miller  Mundy,  Esq.  the 
present  owner  of  Hide-Hall. 

That  I  am  right  in  this  statement,  appears  from  the  will  of 
Edward  Nash,  (see  p.  96,  n.  8.)  and  from  the  following  inscrip- 
tion on  a  monument  in  the  church  of  Stratford,  erected  some 
time  after  the  year  1733,  by  Jane  Norcliffe,  the  wife  of  William 
Norcliffe,  Esq.  and  only  daughter  of  Franklyn  Miller,  by  Jane 
Forster : 

"  P.  M.  S. 

"  Beneath  lye  interred  the  body's  of  Sir  Reginald  Forster,  Ba- 
ronet, and  dame  Mary  his  wife,  daughter  of  Edward  Nash  of 
East  Greenwich,  in  the  county  of  Kent,"  &c.    For  this  inscrip- 


142  STRATFORD  REGISTER. 

William  Hart7  was  buried  March  29,  1639. 

Mary,  daughter  of  Thomas  Hart,  was  baptized 
June  18,  1641. 

Joan  Hart,  widow,  was  buried  Nov.  4,  1646. 

Thomas  Nash,  Esq.  was  buried  April  5,  1647. 

Mrs.  Susanna  Hall,  widow,  was  buried  July  16, 
1649. 

Mr.  Richard  Queeny,8  gent,  of  London,  was  bu- 
ried May  23,  1656. 

George  Hart,  son  of  Thomas  Hart,  was  married 
by  Francis  Smyth,  Justice  of  peace,  to  Hes- 
ter Ludiate,  daughter  of  Thomas  Ludiate, 
Jan.  9,  1657.  [1657-8.] 

tion  I  am  indebted  to  the  kindness  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Davenport, 
Vicar  of  Stratford-upon-Avon. 

Reginald  Forster,  Esq.  who  lived  at  Greenwich,  was  created 
a  Baronet,  May  4,  \66\.  His  son  Reginald,  who  married  Misa 
Nash,  succeeded  to  the  title  on  the  death  of  his  father,  some 
time  after  the  year  1679-  Their  only  son,  Reginald,  was  buried 
at  Stratford,  Aug.  10,  1685. 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Nash  was  married  to  her  second  husband,  Sir 
John  Barnard,  at  Billesley,  about  three  miles  from  Stratford- 
upon-Avon,  June  5,  1649,  and  was  buried  at  Abington  in  the 
county  of  Northampton,  Feb.  17,  1669-7O;  and  with  her  the 
family  of  our  poet  became  extinct.     Malone. 

7  The  eldest  son  of  Joan  Hart,  our  poet's  sister.  I  have  not 
found  any  entry  in  the  Register  of  the  deaths  of  his  brothers 
Thomas  and  Michael  Hart.  The  latter,  I  suspect,  settled  in 
London,  and  was  perhaps  the  father  of  Charles  Hart,  the  cele- 
brated tragedian,  who,  I  believe,  was  born  about  the  year  1630. 

Malone. 

•  This  gentleman  was  born  in  1587,  and  was  brother  to  Tho- 
mas Quiney,  who  married  Shakspeare's  youngest  daughter.  It 
does  not  appear  when  Thomas  Quiney  died.  There  is  a  defect 
in  the  Register  during  the  years  1642,  1643,  and  1644;  and 
another  lacuna  from  March  17,  to  Nov.  18,  1663.  Our  poet's 
son-in-law  probably  died  in  the  latter  of  those  periods  ;  for  his 
wife,  who  died  in  Feb.  1 661-2,  in  the  Register  of  Burials  for 
that  year  is  described  thus:  ■*«  Judith,  uxor  Thomas  Quiney." 
Had  her  husband  been  then  dead,  she  would  have  been  denomi- 
nated vidua,    Malone. 


STRATFORD  REGISTER.  143 

Elizabeth,  daughter  of  George  Hart,  was  baptized 

Jan.  9,  1658.  [1658-9.] 
Jane,  daughter  of  George  Hart,  was  baptized  Dec. 

21,  1661. 
Judith,  wife  of  Thomas  Quiney,  gent,  was  buried 

Feb.  9,  1661.  [1661-62.] 
Susanna,  daughter  of  George  Hart,  was  baptized 

March  18,  1663.  [1663-4.] 
Shakspeare,  son  of  George  Hart,  was  baptized 

Nov.  18,  1666. 
Mary,  daughter  of  George  Hart,  was  baptized 

March  31,  1671. 
Thomas,  son  of  George  Hart,  was  baptized  March 

3,  1673.   [1673-4.] 
George,  son  of  George  Hart,  was  baptized  Aug. 

20,  1676. 
Margaret  Hart,9  widow,  was  buried  Nov.  28, 1682. 
Daniel  Smith  and  Susanna  Hart  were  married 

April  16,  1688. 
Shakspeare   Hart  was   married  to   Anne  Prew, 

April  10,  1694. 
William  Shakspeare,  son  of  Shakspeare  Hart,  was 

baptized  Sept.  14,  1695. 
Hester,  wife  of  George  Hart,  was  buried  April  29, 

1696. 
Anne,  daughter  of  Shakspeare  and  Anne  Hart, 

was  baptized  Aug.  9,  1700. 
George,  son  of  George  and  Mary  Hart,  was  bap. 

tized  Nov.  29,  1700. 
George  Hart1  was  buried  May  3,  1702. 
Hester,  daughter  of  George  Hart,  was  baptized 

Feb.  10,  1702.  [1702-3.] 

•  Probably  the  wife  of  Thomas  Hart,  who  must  have  been 
married  in  or  before  the  year  1633.  The  marriage  ceremony 
was  not  performed  at  Stratford,  there  being  no  entry  of  it  in  the 
Register.     Mai-one. 

•  He  was  born  in  1636.     Ma  lone. 


144  STRATFORD  REGISTER. 

Catharine,   daughter  of   Shakspeare  and   Anne 

Hart,  was  baptized  July  19,  1703. 
Mary,  daughter  of  George  Hart,  was  baptized 

Oct.  7,  1705. 
Mary,  wife  of  George  Hart,  was  buried  Oct.  7, 

1705. 
George  Hart  was  married  to  Sarah  Mountford, 

Feb.  20,  1728.  [1728-9.] 
Thomas,2  son  of  George  Hart,  Jun.  was  baptized 

May  9,  1729. 
Sarah,  daughter  of  George  Hart,  was  baptized 

Sept.  29,  1733. 
Anne,  daughter  of  Shakspeare  Hart,  was  buried 

March  29,  1738. 
Anne,  daughter  of  George  Hart,  was  baptized 

Sept.  29,  1740. 
William  Shakspeare,  son  of  William  Shakspeare 

Hart,  was  baptized  Jan.  8,  1743.  [1743-4.] 
William  Shakspeare,  son  of  William  Shakspeare 

Hart,  was  buried  March  8,  1744.  [1744-5.] 
William,  son  of  George  Hart,  was  buried  April  28, 

1745. 
George  Hart3  was  buried  Aug.  29,  1745. 
Thomas,  son  of  William  Shakspeare  Hart,  was  bu- 
ried March  12,  1746.  [l  746-7-] 
Shakspeare  Hart4  was  buried  July  7,  1747. 
Catharine,  daughter  of  William  Shakspeare  Hart, 

was  baptized  May  10,  1748. 


'  This  Thomas  Hart,  who  is  the  fifth  in  descent  from  Joan 
Hart,  our  poet's  sister,  is  now  (1788)  living  at  Stratford,  in  the 
house  in  which  Shakspeare  was  born.    Malone. 

'  He  was  born  in  1676,  and  was  great  grandson  to  Joan 
Hart.    Malone. 

4  He  was  born  in  1666,  and  was  also  great  grandson  to  Joan 
Hart.    Malone.  8        8 


STRATFORD  REGISTER.  145 

William  Shakspeare  Hart5  was  buried  Feb.  28, 

.    1749.  [1749-50.] 
The  widow  Hart6  was  buried  July  10,  1753. 
John,  son  of  Thomas  Hart,  was  baptized  Aug.  18, 

1755. 
Anne,  daughter  of  Shakspeare  and  Anne  Hart, 

was  buried  Feb.  5,  1760. 
Frances,  daughter  of  Thomas  Hart,  was  baptized 

Aug.  8,  1760. 
Thomas,  son  of  Thomas  Hart,  was  baptized  Aug. 

10,  1764. 
Anne,  daughter  of  Thomas  Hart,  was  baptized 

Jan.  16,  1767. 
Sarah,  daughter  of  George  Hart,  was  buried  Sept. 

10,  1768. 
Frances,  daughter  of  Thomas  Hart,  was  buried 

Oct.  31,  1774. 
George  Hart7  was  buried  July  8,  1778. 


*  He  was  born  in  J 695.     Malone. 

9  This  absurd  mode  of  entry  seems  to  have  been  adopted  for 
the  purpose  of  concealment  rather  than  information;  for  by  the 
omission  of  the  christian  name,  it  is  impossible  to  ascertain  from 
the  Register  who  was  meant.  The  person  here  described  was, 
I  believe,  Anne,  the  widow  of  Shakspeare  Hart,  who  died  in 
1747.    Malonk. 

7  He  was  born  in  1700.     Malone. 


\  01 .  1. 


SHAKSPEARE'S  COAT  OF  ARMS. 


The  following  Instrument*  is  copied  from  the  Ori- 
ginal in  the  College  of  Heralds :  It  is  marked 
G.  13,  p.  349. 

10  all  and  singuler  noble  and  gentlemen  of  all 
estats  and  degrees,  bearing  arms,  to  whom  these 
presents  shall  come,  William  Dethick,  Garter, 
rrincipall  King  of  Arms  of  England,  and  William 
Camden,  alias  Clarencieulx,  King  of  Arms  for  the 
south,  east,  and  west  parts  of  this  realme,  sendethe 
greeting.  Know  ye,  that  in  all  nations  and  king- 
doms the  record  and  remembraunce  of  the  valeant 
facts  and  vertuous  dispositions  of  worthie  men 
have  been  made  knowne  and  divulged  by  certeyne 
shields  of  arms  and  tokens  of  chevalrie;  the  grant 
and  testimonie  whereof  apperteyneth  unto  us,  by 
vertu  of  our  offices  from  the  Quenes  most  Exc. 
Majestie,  and  her  Highenes  most  noble  and  victo- 
rious progenitors  :  wherefore  being  solicited,  and 
by  credible  report  informed,    that  John   Shak- 


8  In  the  Herald's  Office  are  the  first  draughts  of  John  Shak- 
speare's  grant  or  confirmation  of  arms,  by  William  Dethick, 
Garter,  Principal  King  at  Arms,  1596.  See  Vincent's  Press, 
Vol.157,  No.  23,  and  4.     Steevens. 

In  a  Manuscript  in  the  College  of  Heralds,  marked  W.  2» 
p.  2/6,  is  the  following  note  :  "  As  for  the  speare  in  bend,  it  is  a 
patible  difference,  and  the  person  to  whom  it  was  granted  hath 
borne  magistracy,  and  was  justice  of  peace  at  Stratford-upon- 
Avon.  He  married  the  daughter  and  heire  of  Arderne,  and  was 
able  to  maintain  that  estate."     Malone. 


SHAKSPEARE'S  COAT  OF  ARMS.    147 

speare,  now  of  Stratford-upon-Avon,  in  the  counte 
of  Warwick,  gent,  whose  parent,  great  grandfather, 
and  late  antecessor,  for  his  faithefull  and  approved 
service  to  the  late  most  prudent  prince,  king 
Henry  VII.  of  famous  memorie,  was  advaunced 
and  rewarded  with  lands  and  tenements,  geven  to 
him  in  those  parts  of  Warwickshere,  where  they 
have  continewed  by  some  descents  in  good  reputa- 
cion  and  credit ;  and  for  that  the  said  John  Shak- 
speare  having  maryed  the  daughter  and  one  of  the 
heyrs  of  Robert  Arden.of  Wellingcote,  in  the  said 
countie,  and  also  produced  this  his  auncient  cote  of 
arms,  heretofore  assigned  to  him  whilest  he  was  her 
Majesties  officer  and  baylefe  of  that  towne  ;9  In 
consideration  of  the  premisses,  and  for  the  encou- 
ragement of  his  posteritie,  unto  whom  suche  bla- 
zon of  arms  and  achievements  of  inheritance  from 
theyre  said  mother,  by  the  auncyent  custome  and 
lawes  of  arms,  maye  lawfully  descend;  We  the  said 
Garter  and  Clarencieulx  have  assigned,  graunted, 
and  by  these  presents  exemplefied  unto  the  said 
John  Shakspeare,  and  to  his  posteritie,  that  shield 
and  cote  of  arms,  viz.  In  afield  of  gould  upon  a 
bend  sables  a  speare  of  thefrst,  the  poynt  upward^ 
hedded  argent ;  and  for  his  crest  or  cognisance,  A 
falcon  with  his  ivyngs  displayed,  standing  on  a  xvrethe 
of  his  coullers,  supporting  a  speare  armed  hedded, 
or  steeled  sylver,  fyxed  uppon  a  helmet  with  mantell 
and  tassels,  as  more  playnely  maye  appeare  depect- 
ed  on  this  margent;  and  we  have  likewise  uppon  on 
other  escutcheon  impaled  the  same  with  the  aun- 

•  —  his  auncient  cote  of  arms,  heretofore  assigned  to  hint 
xvhilest  he  xvas  her  Majesties  officer  and  baylefe  of  that  towne  ;"] 
This  grant  of  arms  was  made  by  ■  Cook,  Clarencieux,  in 
l.-jfy\  but  is  not  now  extant  in  the  Herald's  Office. 

Maloni. 

L  2 


148    SHAKSPEARE'S  COAT  OF  ARMS. 

cyent  arms  of  the  said  Arden '  of  Wellingcote ;  sig- 
nifieng  therby,  that  it  maye  and  shalbe  lawfull  for 
the  said  John  Skakspeare  gent,  to  beare  and  use  the 
same  shield  of  arms,  single  or  impaled,  as  aforsaid, 
during  his  natural  lyffe ;  and  that  it  shalbe  lawfull 
for  his  children,  yssue,  and  posteryte,  (lawfully  be- 
gotten,) to  beare,  use,  and  quarter,  and  show  forth 
the  same, with  theyre  dewe  differences, in  all  lawfull 
warlyke  facts  and  civile  use  or  exercises,  according 
to  the  laws  of  arms,  and  custome  that  to  gentlemen 
belongethe,  without  let  or  interruption  of  any  per- 
son or  persons,  for  use  or  bearing  the  same.  In 
wyttnesse  and  testemonye  whereof  we  have  sub- 
screbed  our  names,  and  fastened  the  seals  of  our  of- 
fices, geven  at  the  Office  of  Arms,  London,  the 
day  of  in  the  xlii  yere  of  the  reigne 

of  our  most  gratious  Sovraigne  lady  Elizabeth,  by 
the  grace  of  God,  quene  of  Ingland,  France,  and 
Ireland,  defender  of  the  faith,  &c.  1599. 

1  and  ix>e  have  likewise — impaled  the  same  tuith  the  aun- 

cyent  arms  of  the  said  Arden  — ]  It  is  said  by  Mr.  Jacob,  the 
modern  editor  of  Arden  of  Feversham,  (first  published  in  1592 
and  republished  in  1 631  and  1770)  that  Shakspeare  descended  by 
the  female  line  from  the  gentleman  whose  unfortunate  end  is  the 
subject  of  this  tragedy.  But  the  assertion  appears  to  want  sup- 
port, the  true  name  of  the  person  who  was  murdered  at  Fever- 
sham  being  Ardcrn  and  not  Arden.  Ardern  might  be  called 
Arden  in  the  play  for  the  sake  of  better  sound,  or  might  be  cor- 
rupted in  the  Chronicle  of  Holinshed  :  yet  it  is  unlikely  that  the 
true  spelling  should  be  overlooked  among  the  Heralds,  whose 
interest  it  is  to  recommend  by  ostentatious  accuracy  the  trifles 
in  which  they  deal.     Steevens. 

Ardern  was  the  original  name,  but  in  Shakspeare's  time  it  had 
been  softened  to  Arden.     See  p.  58,  n.  5.     Malone. 


Iff/actfixfffYfflj. 


MS^ 


• 


,i.-i  1 1^>»  ; ' 


MORTGAGE 

MADE  BY  SHAKSPEARE, 
a.  d.  1612-13. 


THE  following  is  a  transcript  of  a  deed  exe- 
cuted by  our  author  three  years  before  his  death. 
The  original  deed,  which  was  found  in  the  year 
1768,  among  the  title  deeds  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Fe- 
therstonhaugh,  of  Oxted,  in  the  county  of  Surry, 
is  now  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Garrick,  by  whom 
it  was  obligingly  transmitted  to  me  through  the 
hands  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Horace  Walpole.  Much 
has  lately  been  said  in  various  publications  relative 
to  the  proper  mode  of  spelling  Shakspeare's  mame. 
It  is  hoped  we  shall  hear  no  more  idle  babble  upon 
this  subject.  He  spelt  his  name  himself  as  I  have 
just  now  written  it,  without  the  middle  e.  Let 
this  therefore  for  ever  decide  the  question. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  to  all  ancient 
deeds  were  appended  labels  of  parchment,  which 
were  inserted  at  the  bottom  of  the  deed ;  on  the 
upper  part  of  which  labels  thus  rising  above  the 
rest  of  the  parchment,  the  executing  parties  wrote 
their  names.  Shakspeare,  not  finding  room  for  the 
Whole  of  his  name  on  the  label,  attempted  to  write 
the  remaining  letters  at  top,  but  having  allowed 
himself  only  room  enough  to  write  the  letter  0,  he 
ga\e  the  matter  up.  His  hand-writing,  of  which 
a  facsimile  is  annexed,  is  much  neater  than  many 
others,  which  1  have  seen,  of  that  age.  He  neg- 
d,  however,  to  scrape  the  parchment,  in  con- 
sequence of  which  the  letters  appear  imperfectly 
formed. 

He  purchased  the  estate  here  mortgaged,  from 


150      SHAKSPEARE'S  MORTGAGE. 

Henry  Walker,  for  1401.  as  appears  from  the  enrol- 
ment of  the  deed  of  bargain  and  sale  now  in  the 
Rolls-Chapel,  dated  the  preceding  day,  March  10, 
1612-13.  The  deed  here  printed  shows  that  he 
paid  down  eighty  pounds  of  the  purchase-money, 
and  mortgaged  the  premises  for  the  remainder. 
This  deed  and  the  purchase  deed  were  probably 
both  executed  on  the  same  day, (March  1 0,)  like  our 
modern  conveyance  of  Lease  and  Release.  Malone. 

THIS  INDENTURE  made  the  eleventh  day  of 
March,  in  the  yeares  of  the  reigne  of  our  Sove- 
reigne  Lorde  James,  by  the  grace  of  God,  king  of 
England,  Scotland,  Fraunce,  and  Ireland,  defender 
of  the  faith,  &c.  that  is  to  say,  of  England,  Fraunce 
and  Ireland  the  tenth,  and  of  Scotland  the  six-and- 
fortieth ;  Between  William  Shakespeare;  of  Strat- 
ford-upon-Avon, in  the  Countie  of  Warwick,  gen- 
tleman, William  Johnson,  Citizen  and  Vintener 
of  London,  John  Jackson,  and  John  Hemyng  of 
London,  gentlemen,  of  thone  partie,  and  Henry 
Walker,  Citizen  and  Minstrell  of  London,  of  thother 
partie ;  Witnesseth,  that  the  said  William  Shake- 
speare, William  Johnson,  John  Jackson,  and  John 
Hemyng,  have  demised,  graunted,  and  to  ferme 
letten,  and  by  theis  presents  do  demise,  graunt, 
and  to  ferme  lett  unto  the  said  Henry  Walker,  all 
that  dwelling  house  or  tenement,  with  thappurte- 
naunts,  situate  and  being  within  the  precinct,  cir- 
cuit and  compasse  of  the  late  Black  frryers,  Lon- 
don, sometymes  in  the  tenure  of  James  Gardyner, 
Esquire,  and  since  that  in  the  tenure  of  John  For- 
tescue,  gent,  and  now  or  late  being  in  the  tenure 
or  occupation  of  one  William  Ireland,  or  of  his  as- 
signee or  assignees ;  abutting  upon  a  streete  leading 
downe  to  Puddle  Wharfe,  on  the  east  part,  right 


SHAKSPEARE'S  MORTGAGE.      151 

against  the  kings  Majesties  Wardrobe ;  part  of 
which  said  tenement  is  erected  over  a  greate  gate 
leading  to  a  capitall  messuage,  which  sometyme 
was  in  the  tenure  of  William  Blackwell,  Esquire, 
deceased,  and  since  that  in  the  tenure  or  occupa- 
tion of  the  right  honourable  Henry  now  Earle 
of  Northumberlande :  And  also  all  that  plott  of 
ground  on  the  west  side  of  the  same  tenement, 
which  was  lately  inclosed  with  boords  on  two  sides 
thereof,  by  Anne  Baton,  widow,  so  farre  and  in 
such  sorte  as  the  same  was  inclosed  by  the  said 
Anne  Baton,  and  not  otherwise;  and  being  on  the 
third  side  inclosed  with  an  old  brick  wall ;  which 
said  plott  of  ground  was  sometyme  parcell  and 
taken  out  of  a  great  voyde  peece  of  ground  lately 
used  for  a  garden  ;  and  also  the  soyle  whereupon 
the  said  tenement  standeth ;  and  also  the  said 
brick  wall  and  boords  which  doe  inclose  the  said 
plott  of  ground ;  with  free  entrie,  accesse,  in- 
gresse,  and  regresse,  in,  by,  and  through,  the  said 
great  gate  and  yarde  there,  unto  the  usual  dore  of 
the  said  tenement :  And  also  all  and  singular  cel- 
lors,  sollers,  romes,  lights,  easiaments,  profitts, 
commodities,  and  appurtenaunts  whatsoever  to 
the  said  dwelling-house  or  tenement  belonging  or 
in  any  wise  apperteyning :  TO  HAVE  and  to 
HOLDE  the  said  dwelling-house  or  tenement, 
cellers,  sollers,  romes,  plott  of  ground,  and  all  and 
singular  other  the  premisses  above  by  theis  pre- 
sents mentioned  to  bee  demised,  and  every  part 
and  parcell  thereof,with  thappurtenaunts,  unto  the 
the  said  Henry  Walker,  his  executors,  administra- 
tors, and  assignes,  from  the  feast  of  thannuncia- 
cion  of  the  blessed  Virgin  Marye  next  coming 
after  the  date  hereof,  unto  thende  and  terme  of 
One  hundred  yeares  from  thence  next  ensuing, 


152      SHAKSPEARE'S  MORTGAGE; 

and  fullie  to  be  compleat  and  ended,  withoute 
impeachment  of,  or  for,  any  manner  of  waste: 
YELDING  and  paying  therefore  yearlie  during 
the  said  terme  unto  the  said  William  Shakespeare, 
William  Johnson,  John  Jackson,  and  John  He- 
myng,  their  heires  and  assignes,  a  pepper  corne 
at  the  feast  of  Easter  yearly,  yf  the  same  be  law- 
fullie  demaunded,  and  noe  more.  PROVIDED 
alwayes,  that  if  the  said  William  Shakespeare,  his 
heires,  executors,  administrators  or  assignes,  or 
any  of  them,  doe  well  and  trulie  paie  or  cause  to 
be  paid  to  the  said  Henry  Walker,  his  executors, 
administrators,  or  assignes,  the  sum  of  threescore 
pounds  of  lawfull  money  of  England,  in  and  upon 
the  nyne  and  twentieth  day  of  September  next 
coming  after  the  date  hereof,  at,  or  in,  the  no  we 
dwelling-house  of  the  said  Henry  Wralker,  situate 
and  being  in  the  parish  of  Saint  Martyn  neer  Lud- 
gate,  of  London,  at  one  entier  payment  without 
delaie  ;  That  then  and  from  thenesforth  this  pre- 
sente  lease,  demise  and  graunt,  and  all  and  every 
matter  and  thing  herein  conteyned  (other  then  this 
provisoe)  shall  cease,  determine,  and  bee  utterlie 
voyde,  frustrate,  and  of  none  effect,  as  though  the 
same  had  never  beene  had,  ne  made;  theis  pre- 
sents or  any  thing  therein  conteyned  to  the  con- 
trary thereof  in  any  wise  notwithstanding.  And 
the  said  William  Shakespeare  for  himselfe,  his 
heires,  executors,  and  administrators,  and  for  every 
of  them,  doth  covenaunt,  promisse  and  graunt  to, 
and  with,  the  said  Henry  Walker,  his  executors, 
administrators  and  assignes,  and  everie  of  them,  by 
theispresentes,thathethesaidWilliamShakespeare, 
his  heires,  executors,  administrators  or  assignes, 
shall  and  will  cleerlie  acquite,  exonerate  and  dis- 
charge, or  from  tyme  to  tyme,  and  at  all  tymes 


SHAKSPEARE'S  MORTGAGE.       153 

hereafter,  well  and  sufficientlie  save  and  keepe 
harmless  the  said  Henry  Walker,  his  executors,  ad- 
ministrators, and  assignes,  and  every  of  them,  and 
the  said  premisses  by  theis  presents  demised,  and 
every  parcell  thereof,  with  thappurtenaunts,  of 
and  from  all  and  al  manner  of  former  and  other 
bargaynes,  sales,  guiftes,  graunts,  leases,  jointures, 
dowers,  intailes,  statuts,  recognizaunces,  judg- 
ments, executions ;  and  of,  and  from,  all  and  every 
other  charge,  titles,  troubles,  and  incumbrances 
whatsoever  by  the  said  William  Shakespeare,  Wil- 
liam Johnson,  John  Jackson,  and  John  Hemyng,  or 
any  of  them,  or  by  their  or  any  of  their  meanes, 
had  made,  committed  or  done,  before  thensealing 
and  delivery  of  theis  presents,  or  hereafter  before 
the  said  nyne  and  twentieth  day  of  September  next 
comming  after  the  date  hereof,  to  bee  had,  made, 
committed  or  done,  except  the  rents  and  servits 
to  the  cheef  lord  or  lords  of  the  fee  or  fees  of  the 
premisses,  for,  or  in  respect  of,  his  or  their  segnorie 
or  seignories  onlie,  to  bee  due  and  done. 

IN  WITNESSE   whereof  the  said  parties  to 
theis  indentures  interchangeablie  have  sett  their 
seales.  Yeoven  the  day  and  years  first  above  writ- 
ten, 1612  [1612-13.] 
a 

Wm  Shakspe.         Wm  Johnson.       Jo.  Jackson. 
Ensealed  and  delivered  by  the 

said  William  Shakespeare, 

William  Johnson,  and  John 

Jackson?  in  the  presence  of 

Will.  Atkinson.         Robert  Andrews,  Scr.* 
Ed.  Oudry.  Henry  Lawrence,  Ser- 

vant to  the  said  Scr. 

*  John  Homing  did  not  sign,  or  seal.    AIalone. 

*  i.  c.  Scrivener.     Malone. 


SHAKSPEARE'S  WILL, 

FROM    THE    ORIGINAL 

In  the  Office  of  the  Prerogative  Court  of  Canter- 

bury. 


Vicesimo  quinto  die  Martii,*  Anno  Regni  Domini 
nostri  Jacobi  nunc  Regis  Anglice,  fyc.  decimo 
quarto ,  et  Scotice  quadragesimo  nono.  Anno 
Domini  1616. 

JN  the  name  of  God,  Amen.  I  William  Shak- 
speare  of  Stratford-upon-Avon,  in  the  county  of 
Warwick,  gent,  in  perfect  health  and  memory, 
(God  be  praised !)  do  make  and  ordain  this  my  last 
will  and  testament  in  manner  and  form  following; 
that  is  to  say: 

First,  I  commend  my  soul  into  the  hands  of 
God  my  creator,  hoping,  and  assuredly  believing, 
through  the  only  merits  of  Jesus  Christ  my  Sa- 
viour, to  be  made  partaker  of  life  everlasting;  and 
my  body  to  the  earth  whereof  it  is  made. 

Item,  I  give  and  bequeath  unto  my  daughter 
Judith,  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  lawful 
English  money,  to  be  paid  unto  her  in  manner  and 
form  following;  that  is  to  say,  one  hundred  pounds 

4  Our  poet's  will  appears  to  have  been  drawn  up  in  February, 
though  not  executed  till  the  following  month ;  for  February  was 
first  written,  and  afterwards  struck  out,  and  March  written  over 
it.     Majlonjc. 


SHAKSPEARE'S  WILL.  155 

in  discharge  of  her  marriage  portion  within  one 
year  after  my  decease,  with  consideration  after  the 
rate  of  two  shillings  in  the  pound  for  so  long  time 
as  the  same  shall  be  unpaid  unto  her  after  my  de- 
cease; and  the  fifty  pounds  residue  thereof,  upon 
her  surrendering  of,  or  giving  of  such  sufficient 
security  as  the  overseers  of  this  my  will  shall  like 
of,  to  surrender  or  grant,  all  her  estate  and  right 
that  shall  descend  or  come  unto  her  after  my  de- 
cease, or  that  she  now  hath,  of,  in,  or  to,  one 
copyhold  tenement,  with  the  appurtenances,  lying 
and  being  in  Stratford-upon-Avon  aforesaid,  in 
the  said  county  of  Warwick,  being  parcel  or  holden 
of  the  manor  of  Rowington,  unto  my  daughter 
Susanna  Hall,  and  her  heirs  for  ever. 

Item,  I  give  and  bequeath  unto  my  said  daughter 
Judith  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  more,  if  she, 
or  any  issue  of  her  body,  be  living  at  the  end  of 
three  years  next  ensuing  the  day  of  the  date  of  this 
my  will,  during  which  time  my  executors  to  pay 
her  consideration  from  my  decease  according  to 
the  rate  aforesaid:  and  if  she  die  within  the  said 
term  without  issue  of  her  body,  then  my  will  is, 
and  I  do  give  and  bequeath  one  hundred  pounds 
thereof  to  my  niece5  Elizabeth  Hall,  and  the  fifty 

f>ounds  to  be  set  forth  by  my  executors  during  the 
ife  of  my  sister  Joan  Hart,  and  the  use  and  profit 
thereof  coming,  shall  be  paid  to  my  said  sister 
Joan,  and  after  her  decease  the  said  fifty  pounds 
shall  remain  amongst  the  children  of  my  said  sister, 
equally  to  be  divided  amongst  them ;  but  if  my 


*  to  my  niece  — ]  Elizabeth  Hall  was  our  poet's  grand- 
daughter. So,  in  Othtllo,  Act  1.  sc.  i.  Iago  says  to  Brabantio ; 
"  You'll  have  your  nephew  neigh  to  you ;"  meaning  his  grand- 
children.    See  the  note  there.     Malonk. 


156  SHAKSPEARE'S  WILL. 

said  daughter  Judith  be  living  at  the  end  of  the  said 
three  rears,  or  any  issue  of  her  body,  then  my  will 
is,  tod  so  I  devise  and  bequeath  the  said  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds  to  be  set  out  by  my  executors  and 
overseers  for  the  best  benefit  of  her  and  her  issue, 
and  the  stock  not  to  be  paid  unto  her  so  long  as 
she  shall  be  married  and  covert  baron ;  but  my 
will  is,  that  she  shall  have  the  consideration  yearly 
paid  unto  her  during  her  life,  and  after  her  decease 
the  said  stock  and  consideration  to  be  paid  to  her 
children,  if  she  have  any,  and  if  not,  to  her 
executors  or  assigns,  she  living  the  said  term  after 
my  decease:  provided  that  if  such  husband  as  she 
shall  at  the  end  of  the  said  three  years  be  married 
unto,  or  at  any  [time]  after,  do  sufficiently  assure 
unto  her,  and  the  issue  of  her  body,  lands  answer- 
able to  the  portion  by  this  my  will  given  unto  her, 
and  to  be  adjudged  so  by  my  executors  and  over- 
seers, then  my  will  is,  that  the  said  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  shall  be  paid  to  such  husband  as  shall 
make  such  assurance,  to  his  own  use. 

Item,  I  give  and  bequeath  unto  my  said  sister 
Joan  twenty  pounds,  and  all  my  wearing  apparel, 
to  be  paid  and  delivered  within  one  year  after  my 
decease;  and  I  do  will  and  devise  unto  her  the 
house,  with  the  appurtenances,  in  Stratford,  where- 
in she  dwelleth,  for  her  natural  life,  under  the 
yearly  rent  of  twelve-pence. 

Item,  I  give  and  bequeath  unto  her  three  sons, 
William  Hart, Hart,6    and    Michael    Hart, 


6  Hart,']  It  is  singular  that  neither  Shakspeare  nor  any 

of  his  family  should  have  recollected  the  christian  name  of  his 
nephew,  who  was  born  at  Stratford  but  eleven  years  before  the 
making  of  his  will.  His  christian  name  was  Thomas;  and  he 
was  baptized  in  that  town,  July  24,  1&05.     Malone. 


SHAKSPE ARE'S  WILL.  157 

five  pounds  apiece,  to  be  paid  within  one  year  after 
my  decease. 

Item,  I  give  and  bequeath  unto  the  said  Eliza- 
beth Hall  all  my  plate,  (except  my  broad  silver  and 
gilt  bowl,7)  that  I  now  have  at  the  date  of  this  my 
will. 

Item,  I  give  and  bequeath  unto  the  poor  of  Strat- 
ford aforesaid  ten  pounds ;  to  Mr.  Thomas  Combe8 
my  sword ;  to  Thomas  Russel,  esq.  five  pounds ; 
and  to  Francis  Collins9  of  the  borough  of  Warwick, 
in  the  county  of  Warwick,  gent,  thirteen  pounds 
six  shillings  and  eight-pence,  to  be  paid  within  one 
year  after  my  decease. 


7  ■  except  my  broad  silver  and  gilt  bowl,]  This  bowl,  as 
we  afterwards  find,  our  poet  bequeathed  to  his  daughter  Judith. 
Instead  of  bowl,  Mr.  Theobald,  and  all  the  subsequent  editors, 
have  here  printed  hoxes.     Majloxe. 

Mr.  Malone  meant — taxes ;  but  he  has  charged  us  all  with 
having  printed  boxes,  which  we  most  certainly  have  not  printed: 

Steevens. 

•  >  Mr.  Thomas  Combe,"]  This  gentleman  was  baptized  at 

Stratford,  Feb.  9,  1588-9,  so  that  he  was  twenty-seven  years  old 
at  the  time  of  Shakspeare's  death.  He  died  at  Stratford  in  July 
1657,  aged  6b ;  and  his  elder  brother  William  died  at  the  same 
place,  Jan.  30,  1 600-7,  aged  80.  Mr.  Thomas  Combe  by  hi* 
will  made  June  30,  \656,  directed  his  executors  to  convert  all  his 
personal  property  into  money,  and  to  lay  it  out  in  the  purchase 
of  lands,  to  be  settled  on  William  Combe,  the  eldest  son  of  John 
Combe  of  Allchurch  in  the  county  of  Worcester,  Gent,  and  his 
heirs  male ;  remainder  to  his  two  brothers  successively.  Where, 
therefore,  our  poet's  sword  has  wandered,  I  have  not  been  able 
to  discover.  1  have  taken  the  trouble  to  ascertain  the  ages  of 
Shakspeare's  friends  and  relations,  and  the  time  of  their  deaths, 
because  we  are  thus  enabled  to  judge  how  far  the  traditions  con- 
cerning him  which  were  communicated  to  Mr.  Rowe  in  the  be- 
ginning of  this  century,  are  worthy  of  credit.     Malonk. 

•  to  Francis  Collins  — ]  This  gentleman,  who  was  the 

son  of  Mr.  Walter  Collins,  was  baptized  at  Stratford,  Dec.  24, 
10b2.     1  know  not  when  he  died.     Malone. 


158  SHAKSPEARE'S  WILL. 

Item,  I  give  and  bequeath  to  Hamlet  \_Hamnef] 
Sadler1  twenty-six  shillings  eight-pence,  to  buy 
him  a  ring ;  to  William  Reynolds,  gent,  twenty- 
six  shillings  eight-pence,  to  buy  him  a  ring ;  to  my 
godson  William  Walker,2  twenty  shillings  in  gold  ; 
to  Anthony  Nash,3  gent,  twenty-six  shillings  eight- 
pence;  and  to  Mr.  John  Nash,4  twenty-six  shillings 
eight-pence ;  and  to  my  fellows,  John  Hemynge, 
Richard  Burbage,  and  Henry  Cundell,5  twenty-six 
shillings  eight-pence  apiece,  to  buy  them  rings. 

Item,  I  give,  will,  bequeath,  and  devise,  unto 
my  daughter  Susanna  Hall,  for  better  enabling  of 
her  to  perform  this  my  will,  and  towards  the  per- 
formance thereof,  all  that  capital  messuage  or  tene- 


1  to  Hamnet  Sadler  — ]    This  gentleman  was  godfather 

to  Shakspeare's  only  son,  who  was  called  after  him.  Mr.  Sadler, 
I  believe,  was  born  about  the  year  1550,  and  died  at  Stratford- 
upon-Avon,  in  October  1024.  His  wife,  Judith  Sadler,  who 
was  godmother  to  Shakspeare's  youngest  daughter,  was  buried 
there,  March  23, ,1613-14.  Our  poet  probably  was  godfather 
to  their  son  William,  who  was  baptized  at  Stratford,  Feb.  5, 
1597-8.    Malone. 

*  to  my  godson,  William  Walker,"]  William,  the  son  of 

Henry  Walker,  was  baptized  at  Stratford,  Oct.  16,  l60S.  I 
mention  this  circumstance,  because  it  ascertains  that  our  author 
was  at  his  native  town  in  the  autumn  of  that  year.  Mr.  Wil- 
liam Walker  was  buried  at  Stratford,  March  1,  1679-8O. 

Malone. 

*  to  Anthony  Nash,]  He  was  father  of  Mr.  Thomas  Nash, 

who  married  our  poet's  grand-daughter,  Elizabeth  Hall.  He 
lived,  I  believe,  at  Welcombe,  where  his  estate  lay ;  and  was 
buried  at  Stratford,  Nov.  18,  1622.     Malone. 

4 to  Mr.  John  Nash,]  This  gentleman  died  at  Stratford, 

and  was  buried  there,  Nov.  10,  1623.     Malone. 

*  — —  to  my  felloxus,  John  Hemynge,  Richard  Burbage,  and 
Henry  Cundell,']  These  our  poet's Jellous  did  not  very  long  sur- 
vive him.  Burbage  died  in  March,  1619;  Cundell  in  Decem- 
ber, 1627;  and  Heminge  in  October  1630.  See  their  wills  ia 
The  Account  )of  our  old  Actors,  in  Vol.  III.    Malone. 


SHAKSPEARE'S  WILL.  159 

ment,  with  the  appurtenances,  in  Stratford  afore- 
said, called  The  New  Place,  wherein  I  now  dwell, 
and  two  messuages  or  tenements,  with  the  appur- 
tenances, situate,  lying,  and  being  in  Henley-street, 
within  the  borough  of  Stratford  aforesaid ;  and  all 
my  barns,  stables,  orchards,  gardens,  lands,  tene- 
ments, and  hereditaments  whatsoever,  situate,  ly- 
ing, and  being,  or  to  be  had,  received,  perceived,6 
or  taken,  within  the  towns,  hamlets,  villages, 
fields,  and  grounds  of  Stratford-upon-Avon,  Old 
Stratford,  Bishopton,  and  Welcombe,7  or  in  any 
of  them,  in  the  said  county  of  Warwick  ;  and  also 
all  that  messuage  or  tenement,  with  the  appurte- 
nances, wherein  one  John  Robinson  dwelleth, 
situate,  lying,  and  being,  in  the  Blackfriars  in 
London  near  the  Wardrobe;8  and  all  other  my 


•  ■  received,  perceived^]  Instead  of  these  words,  we  have 
hitherto  had  in  all  the  printed  copies  of  this  will,  reserved,  pre- 
served.    Malone. 

1  Old  Stratford,  Bishopton,  and  Welcombe,]   The  lands 

of  Old  Stratford,  Bishopton,  and  Welcombe,  here  devised,  were 
in  Shakspeare's  time  a  continuation  of  one  large  field,  all  in  the 
parish  of  Stratford.  Bishopton  is  two  miles  from  Stratford,  and 
Welcombe  one.  For  Bishopton,  Mr.  Theobald  erroneously 
printed  Bushaxton,  and  the  error  has  been  continued  in  all  the 
subsequent  editions.  The  word  in  Shakspeare's  original  will  is 
spelt  Bushopton,  the  vulgar  pronunciation  of  Bishopton. 

I  searched  the  Indexes  in  the  Rolls  chapel  from  the  year  1589 
to  1616,  with  the  hope  of  finding  an  enrolment  of  the  purchase- 
deed  of  the  estate  here  devised  by  our  poet,  and  of  ascertaining 
its  extent  and  value;  but  it  was  not  enrolled  during  that  period, 
nor  could  I  find  any  inquisition  taken  after  his  death,  by  which 
its  value  might  have  been  ascertained.  I  suppose  it  was  conveyed 
by  the  former  owner  to  Shakspeare,  not  by  bargain  and  sale,  but 
by  a  deed  of  feoffment,  which  it  was  not  necessary  to  enroll. 

Malonk. 

•  -  that  messuage  or  tenement — in  the  Blackfriars  in  Lon- 


m  SHAKSPEARE'S  WILL. 

lands,  tenements,  and  hereditaments  whatsoever ; 
to  have  and  to  hold  all  and  singular  the  said  pre- 
mises, with  their  appurtenances,  unto  the  said 
.Susanna  Hall,  for  and  during  the  term  of  her  na- 
tural life  ;  and  after  her  decease  to  the  first  son  of 
her  body  lawfully  issuing,  and  to  the  heirs  males  of 
the  body  of  the  said  first  son  lawfully  issuing  ;  and 
for  default  of  such  issue,  to  the  second  son  of  her 
body  lawfully  issuing,  and  to  the  heirs  males  of  the 
body  of  the  said  second  son  lawfully  issuing  ;  and 
for  default  of  such  heirs,  to  the  third  son  of  the 
body  of  the  said  Susanna  lawfully  issuing,  and  to 
the  heirs  males  of  the  body  of  the  said  third  son 
lawfully  issuing ;  and  for  default  of  such  issue,  the 
same  so  to  be  and  remain  to  the  fourth,  fifth,  sixth, 
and  seventh  sons  of  her  body,  lawfully  issuing  one 
after  another,  and  to  the  heirs  males  of  the  bodies 
of  the  said  fourth,  fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh  sons 
lawfully  issuing,  in  such  manner  as  it  is  before 
limited  to  be  and  remain  to  the  first,  second,  and 
third  sons  of  her  body,  and  to  their  heirs  males ; 
and  for  default  of  such  issue,  the  said  premises  to 
be  and  remain  to  my  said  niece  Hall,  and  the  heirs 
males  of  her  body  lawfully  issuing;  and  for  default 
of  such  issue,  to  my  daughter  Judith,  and  the  heirs 
males  of  her  body  lawfully  issuing;  and  for  default 
of  such  issue,  to  the  right  heirs  of  me  the  said 
William  Shakspeare  for  ever. 

don  near  the  Wardrobe ;]  This  was  the  house  which  was  mort- 
gaged to  Henry  Walker.     See  p.  149. 

By  the  Wardrobe  is  meant  the  King's  Great  Wardrobe,  a  royal 
house  near  Puddle-Wharf,  purchased  by  King  Edward  the  Third 
from  Sir  John  Beaucliamp,  who  built  it.  King  Richard  III.  was 
lodged  in  this  house  in  the  second  year  of  his  reign.  See  Stowe's 
Survey,  p.  693,  edit.  1618.  After  the  fire  of  London  this  of- 
fice was  kept  in  the  Savoy ;  but  it  is  now  abolished.. 

Malone. 


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r<\Q  fat /!■***- 


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t>f«*    /^^W  gCjtJfyS*^ 


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G.Stt-trn**  ,J*ltn**vU  ifj&  ■ 


SHAKSPEARE'S  WILL.  161 

Item,  I  give  unto  my  wife  ray  second  best  bed, 
with  the  furniture.9 

Item,  I  give  and  bequeath  to  my  said  daughter 
Judith  my  broad  silver  gilt  bowl.  All  the  rest  of 
my  goods,  chattels,  leases,  plate,  jewels,  and  hous- 
hold  stuff  whatsoever,  after  my  debts  and  legacies 
paid,  and  my  funeral  expences  discharged,  I  give, 
devise,  and  bequeath  to  my  son-in-law,  John  Hall, 
gent,  and  my  daughter  Susanna  his  wife,  whom  I 
ordnin  and  make  executors  of  this  my  last  will  and 
testament.  And  I  do  entreat  and  appoint  the  said 
Thomas  Russel,  esq.  and  Francis  Collins,  gent,  to 
be  overseers  hereof.  And  do  revoke  all  former 
wills,  and  publish  this  to  be  my  last  will  and  testa- 
ment. In  witness  whereof  I  have  hereunto  put  my 
hand,  the  day  and  year  first  above  written. 

By  me1  miiliaro  Simfcapeare. 

Witness  to  the  publishing  hereof, 

Fra.  Collyns,* 
Julius  Shaw,3 
John  Robinson,4 
Hamnet  Sadler,* 
Robert  Whattcott. 

•  ■  my  second  best  bed,  "with  the  furniture.")  Thus  Shak- 
speare's  original  will.  Mr.  Theobald  and  the  other  modern  edi- 
tors have  been  more  bountiful  to  Mrs.  Shakspeare,  having  printed 
instead  of  these  words,  "  — my  broxun  best  bed,  with  the  fur- 
niture."    Ma  LONE. 

It  appears,  in  the  original  will  of  Shakspeare,  (now  in  the 
Prerogative-Office,  Doctor's  Commons,)  that  he  had  forgot  his 
wife  ;  the  legacy  to  her  being  expressed  by  an  interlineation,  aa 
well  as  those  to  Heminge,  Burbage,  and  Condell. 

The  will  is  written  on  three  sheets  of  paper,  the  two  last  of 
which  are  undoubtedly  subscribed  with  Shakspeare's  own  hand. 
The  first  indeed  has  his  name  in  the  margin,  but  it  differs  some- 
what in  spelling  as  well  as  manner,  from  the  two  signatures  that 

VOL.  I.  M 


162  SHAKSPE ARE'S  WILL. 

'  Probation  fait  testamentum  suprascriptum  apud 
London,  coram  Magistro  William  Byrde,  he- 
gum  Doctore,  fyc.  vicesimo  secundo  die  mensis 
Junii,  Anno  Domini  l616-,juramento  Johannis 
Hall  unius  ex.  cui,  fyc.  de  bene,  $c.  jurat,  re- 
servata  potestate,  §c.  Susanna?  Hall,  alt  ex.  fyc. 
earn  cum  venerit,  fyc.  petitur.  £$c. 

follow.     The  reader  will  find  a  fac-simile  of  all  the  three,  as  well 
as  those  of  the  witnesses,  opposite  this  page.     Steevens. 

The  name  at  the  top  of  the  margin  of  the  first  sheet  was  pro- 
bably written  by  the  scrivener  who  drew  the  will.  This  was  the 
constant  practice  in  Shakspeare's  time.     Malone. 

1  By  me  William  Shakspeare.~]  This  was  the  mode  of  our 
poet's  time.  Thus  the  Register  of  Stratford  is  signed  at  the 
bottom  of  each  page,  in  the  year  1616:  "  Per  me  Richard  Watts, 
Minister."  These  concluding  words  have  hitherto  been  inaccu- 
rately exhibited  thus :  "  —  the  day  and  year  first  above-written 
by  me,  William  Shakspeare."  Neither  the  day,  nor  year,  nor 
any  preceding  part  of  this  will,  was  written  by  our  poet.  ••  By 
me,"  &c.  only  means — The  above  is  the  will  of  me  William  Shak- 
speare.   Malone. 

*  —  Fra.  Collyns,]  See  p.  157.     Malone. 

*  Julius  Shatv,']  was  born  in  Sept.  157 1.      He  married 

Anne  Boyes,  May  5,  1594 ;  and  died  at  Stratford  in  June  1629. 

Malone. 

4  John  Robinson,"]  John,  son  of  Thomas  Robinson,  was 

baptized  at  Stratford,  Nov.  30,  1589.     I  know  not  when  he  died. 

Malone. 

*  ■■    '■'■  Hamnet  Sadler.]  See  p.  158.    Malone. 


THE 


DEDICATION  OF  THE  PLAYERS. 


TO   THE 


MOST  NOBLE  AND  INCOMPARABLE  PAIRE  OF 
BRETHREN, 

WILLIAM, 

Earle  of  Pembroke,  &c.  Lord  Chamberlaine  to  the 
Kings  most  Excellent  Majestie; 


PHILIP, 

Earle   of  Montgomery,  &c.  Gentleman   of  his 
Majesties  Bed-chamber. 

Both  Knights  of  the  Most  Noble  Order  of  the 
Garter,  and  our  singular  good  LORDS. 

RIGHT    HONOURABLE, 

WHILST  we  studie  to  be  thankfull  in  our  parti- 
cular, for  the  many  favors  we  have  received  from 
your  L.  L.  we  are  falne  upon  the  ill  fortune,  to 
mingle  two  the  most  diverse  things  that  can  be, 
feare,  and  rashnesse ;  rashnesse  in  the  enterprize, 
and  feare  of  the  successe.  For,  when  we  value  the 
places  your  H.  H.  sustaine,  wee  cannot  but  knowthe 
dignity  greater,  than  to  descend  to  the  reading  of 
these  trifles  :  and,  while  we  name  them  trifles,  we 
have  deprived  ourselves  of  the  defence  of  our  de- 

M  2 


164    THE  PLAYERS'  DEDICATION. 

dication.  But  since  your  L.  L.  have  been  pleased 
to  thinke  these  trifles  something,  heretofore  ;  and 
have  prosequuted  both  them,  and  their  authour 
living,  with  so  much  favour  ;  wejiope  that  (they 
out-living  him,  and  he  not  having  the  fate,  com- 
mon with  some,  to  be  exequutor  to  his  owne  writ- 
ings) you  will  use  the  same  indulgence  toward 
them,  you  have  done  unto  their  parent.  There  is 
a  great  difference,  whether  any  booke  choose  his 
patrones,  or  find  them :  this.hath  done  both.  For  so 
much  were  your  L.  L.  likings  of  the  several  parts, 
when  they  were  acted,  as  before  they  were  publish- 
ed, the  volume  asked  to  be  yours.  We  have  but 
collected  them,  and  done  an  office  to  the  dead,  to 
procure  his  orphanes,  guardians;  without  ambition 
either  of  selfe-profit,  or  fame  :  onely  to  keepe  the 
memory  of  so  worthy  a  friend,  and  fellow  alive, 
as  was  our  Shakspeare,  by  humble  offer  of  his 
playes,  to  your  most  noble  patronage.  Wherein, 
as  we  have  justly  observed  no  man  to  come  neere 
your  L.  L.  but  with  a  kind  of  religious  addresse,  it 
hath  bin  the  height  of  our  care,  who  are  the  pre- 
senters, to  make  the  present  worthy  of  your  H.  H. 
by  the  perfection.  But,  there  we  must  also  crave 
our  abilities  to  be  considered,  my  lords.  We  can- 
not goe  beyond  our  owne  powers.  Country  hands 
reach  forth  milke,  creame,  fruits,  or  what  they  have: 
and  many  nations  (we  have  heard)  that  had  not 
gummes  and  incense,  obtained  their  requests  with  a 
leavened  cake.6    It  was  no  fault  to  approach  their 


6  Country  hands  reach  forth  milk,  &c.  and  many  nations — 
that  had  not  gummes  and  incense,  obtained  their  requests  "with  a 
leavened  cakeJ]  This  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  common* 
tolaces  of  dedication  in  Shakspeare's  age.  We  find  it  in  Morley's 
Dedication  of  a  Book  of  Songs  to  Sir  Robert  Cecil,  1595 :  "  I 
have  presumed  (says  he)  to  make  offer  of  these  simple  coroposi- 


THE  PLAYERS'  DEDICATION.     165 

gods  by  what  meanes  they  could :  and  the  most, 
though  meanest,  of  things  are  made  more  precious, 
when  they  are  dedicated  to  temples.  In  that  name 
therefore,  we  most  humbly  consecrate  to  your  H.  H. 
these  remaines  of  your  servant  Shakspeare  ;  that 
what  delight  is  in  them  may  be  ever  your  L.  L.  the 
reputation  his,  and  the  faults  ours,  if  any  be  com- 
mitted, by  a  paire  so  carefull  to  shew  their  grati- 
tude both  to  the  living,  and  the  dead,  as  is 

Your  Lordshippes  most  bounden, 

John  Heminge, 
Henry  Condell. 


tions  of  mine,  imitating  (right  honourable)  in  this  the  customs 
of  the  old  world,  who  wanting  incense  to  offer  up  to  their  gods, 
made  shift  insteade  thereof  to  honour  them  with  milk.'*  The 
tame  thought  (if  I  recollect  right)  is  again  employed  by  the 
players  in  their  dedication  of  Fletcher's  plays,  folio,  1647. 

Maloki. 


THE 


PREFACE 


OF 


THE    PLAYERS. 


TO  THE  GREAT  VARIETY  OF  READERS, 

FROM  the  most  able,  to  him  that  can  but  spell : 
there  are  you  numbered,  we  had  rather  you  were 
weighed.  Especially,  when  the  fate  of  all  bookes 
depends  upon  your  capacities :  and  not  of  your 
heads  alone,  but  of  your  purses.  Well !  it  is  now 
publique,  and  you  will  stand  for  your  priviledges, 
wee  know :  to  read,  and  censure.  Doe  so,  but 
buy  it  first.  That  doth  best  commend  a  booke, 
the  stationer  saies.  Then,  how  odde  soever  your 
braines  be,  or  your  wisdomes,  make  your  licence 
the  same, and  spare  not.  Judge  your  sixe-pen'orth,7 

7  Judge  your  sixe-perf  orth,  &c]  So,  in  the  Induction  to  Ben 
Jonson's  Bartholomew  Fair  :  "  —  it  shall  be  lawful  for  any  man 
to  judge  his  six-pen  worth,  his  twelve-pen' worth,  so  to  his  eighteen 
pence,  two  shillings,  half  a  crown,  to  the  value  of  his  place ; 
provided  always  his  place  get  not  above  his  wit.  And  if  he  pay 
for  half  a  dozen,  he  may  censure  for  all  them  too,  so  that  he 
will  undertake  that  they  shall  be  silent.  He  shall  put  in  for  cen- 
surers  here,  as  they  do  for  lots  at  the  lottery  :  marry,  if  he  drop 
but  six-pence  at  the  door,  and  will  censure  a  crowns-worth,  it  is 
thought  there  is  no  conscience  or  justice  in  that." 

Perhaps  Old  Ben  was  author  of  the  Players'1  Preface,  and,  in 
the  instance  before  us,  has  borrowed  from  himself.    Steevens, 


THE  PLAYERS'  PREFACE.         167 

your  shillings  worth,  your  five  shillings  worth  at  a 
time,  or  higher,  so  you  rise  to  the  just  rates,  and 
welcome.  But,  whatever  you  doe,  buy.  Censure 
will  not  drive  a  trade,  or  make  the  jacke  goe.  And 
though  you  be  a  magistrate  of  wit,  and  sit  on  the 
stage  at  Black-friars,  or  the  Cockpit,  to  arraigne 
plays  dailie,  know,  these  playes  have  had  their  triall 
already,  and  stood  out  all  appeales ;  and  do  now 
come  forth  quitted  rather  by  a  decree  of  court,  than 
any  purchased  letters  of  commendation. 

It  had  bene  a  thing,  we  confesse,  worthie  to  have 
been  wished,  that  the  author  himselfe  had  lived  to 
have  set  forth,  and  overseen  his  owne  writings;  but 
since  it  hath  been  ordained  otherwise,  and  he  by 
death  departed  from  that  right,  we  pray  you  do  not 
envie  his  friends  the  office  of  their  care  and  paine, 
to  have  collected  and  published  them  ;  and  so  to 
have  published  them,  as  where8  (before)  you  were 
abused  with  divers  stolne  and  surreptitious  copies, 
maimed  and  deformed  by  the  frauds  and  stealthes 
of  injurious  imposters,  that  exposed  them,  even 
those  are  now  offered  to  your  view  cured,  and  per- 
fect of  their  limbes  ;  and  all  the  rest,  absolute  in 
their  numbers  as  he  conceived  them :  who,  as  he 
was  a  happy  imitator  of  nature,  was  a  most  gentle 
expresser  of  it.  His  mind  and  hand  went  together; 
and  what  he  thought,  he  uttered  with  that  easinesse, 
that  wee  have  scarce  received  from  him  a  blot  in  his 
papers.9     But  it  is  not  our  province,  who  onely 

father  his  workes,  and  give  them  you,  to  praise 
im.  It  is  yours  that  reade  him.  And  there  we 
hope,  to  your  divers  capacities,  you  will  finde 
enough,  both  to  draw,  and  hold  you  :  for  his  wit 

• at  where— ]  i.  e.  whereas.     Malone. 

*  Probably  they  had  few  of  his  MSS.     Steevbns. 


168  MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE. 

can  no  more  lie  hid,  then  it  could  be  lost.  Reade 
him,  therefore ;  and  againe,  and  againe :  and  if 
then  you  doe  not  like  him,  surely  you  are  in  some 
manifest  danger,  not  to  understand  him.  And  so 
we  leave  you  to  other  of  his  friends,  who,  if  you 
need,  can  bee  your  guides :  if  you  neede  them 
not,  you  can  leade  yourselves,  and  others.  And 
such  readers  we  wisn  him. 

John  Heminge, 
Henry  Condell. 


MR.  POPE'S 

PREFACE, 


IT  is  not  my  design  to  enter  into  a  criticism  upon 
this  author ;  though  to  do  it  effectually,  and  not 
superficially,  would  be  the  best  occasion  that  any 
just  writer  could  take,  to  form  the  judgment  and 
taste  of  our  nation.  For  of  all  English  poets 
Shakspeare  must  be  confessed  to  be  the  fairest  and 
fullest  subject  for  criticism,  and  to  afford  the  most 
numerous,  as  well  as  most  conspicuous  instances, 
both  of  beauties  and  faults  of  all  sorts.  But  this 
far  exceeds  the  bounds  of  a  preface,  the  business 
of  which  is  only  to  give  an  account  of  the  fate  of 
his  works,  and  the  disadvantages  under  which  they 
have  been  transmitted  to  us.    We  shall  hereby  ex- 


MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE.  169 

tenuate  many  faults  which  are  his,  and  clear  him 
from  the  imputation  of  many  which  are  not :  a 
design,  which,  though  it  can  be  no  guide  to  future 
criticks  to  do  him  justice  in  one  way,  will  at  least 
be  sufficient  to  prevent  their  doing  him  an  injustice 
in  the  other. 

I  cannot  however  but  mention  some  of  his  prin- 
cipal and  characteristick  excellencies,  for  which 
(notwithstanding  his  defects)  he  is  justly  and  uni- 
versally elevated  above  all  other  dramatick  writers. 
Not  that  this  is  the  proper  place  of  praising  him, 
but  because  I  would  not  omit  any  occasion  of 
doing  it. 

If  ever  any  author  deserved  the  name  of  an 
original,  it  was  Shakspeare.  Homer  himself  drew 
not  his  art  so  immediately  from  the  fountains  of 
nature,  it  proceeded  through  ^Egyptian  strainers 
and  channels,  and  came  to  him  not  without  some 
tincture  of  the  learning,  or  some  cast  of  the  models, 
of  those  before  him.  The  poetry  of  Shakspeare 
was  inspiration  indeed  :  he  is  not  so  much  an  imi- 
tator, as  an  instrument,  of  nature;  and  it  is  not  so 
just  to  say  that  he  speaks  from  her,  as  that  she 
speaks  through  him. 

His  characters  are  so  much  nature  herself,  that  it 
is  a  sort  of  injury  to  call  them  by  so  distant  a  name 
as  copies  of  her.  Those  of  other  poets  have  a  con- 
stant resemblance,  which  shows  that  they  received 
them  from  one  another,  and  were  but  multipliers 
of  the  same  image :  each  picture,  like  a  mock' 
rainbow,  is  but  the  reflection  of  a  reflection.  But 
every  single  character  in  Shakspeare  is  as  much  an 
individual,  as  those  in  life  itself  :  it  is  as  impossible 
to  find  any  two  alike;  and  such  as  from  their  rela- 
tion or  affinity  in  any  respect  appear  most  to  be 
twins,  will,  upon  comparison,  be  found  remarkably 


170  MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE.' 

distinct.  To  this  life  and  variety  of  character,  we 
must  add  the  wonderful  preservation  of  it ;  which 
is  such  throughout  his  plays,  that  had  all  the 
speeches  been  printed  without  the  very  names  of 
the  persons,  I  believe  one  might  have  applied  them 
with  certainty  to  every  speaker.1 
-  The  power  over  our  passions  was  never  possessed 
in  a  more  eminent  degree,  or  displayed  in  so  dif- 
ferent instances.  Yet  all  along,  there  is  seen  no 
labour,  no  pains  to  raise  them ;  no  preparation  to 
guide  or  guess  to  the  effect,  or  be  perceived  to 
lead  toward  it :  but  the  heart  swells,  and  the  tears 
burst  out,  just  at  the  proper  places :  we  are  sur- 
prised the  moment  we  weep  ;  and  yet  upon  re- 
flection find  the  passion  so  just,  that  we  should  be 
surprised  if  we  had  not  wept,  and  wept  at  that  very 
moment. 

How  astonishing  is  it  again,  that  the  passions 
directly  opposite  to  these,  laughter  and  spleen,  are 
no  less  at  his  command !  that  he  is  not  more  a 
master  of  the  great  than  of  the  ridiculous  in  human 
nature;  of  our  noblest  tendernesses,  than  of  our 
vainest  foibles ;  of  our  strongest  emotions,  than  of 
our  idlest  sensations ! 

Nor  does  he  only  excel  in  the  passions  :  in  the 
coolness  of  reflection  and  reasoning  he  is  full  as 
admirable.  His  sentiments  are  not  only  in  general 
the  most  pertinent  and  judicious  upon  every  sub- 
ject; but  by  a  talent  very  peculiar,  something  be- 
tween penetration  and  felicity,  he  hits  upon  that 
particular  point  on  which  the  bent  of  each  argu- 

1  Addison,  in  the  273d  Spectator,  has  delivered  a  similar  opi- 
nion respecting  Homer  :  "  There  is  scarce  a  speech  or  action  in 
the  Iliad,  which  the  reader  may  not  ascribe  to  the  person  who 
speaks  or  acts,  without  seeing  his  name  at  the  head  of  it." 

v  Stbeven*. 


MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE.  171 

ment  turns,  or  the  force  of  each  motive  depends. 
This  is  perfectly  amazing,  from  a  man  of  no  edu- 
cation or  experience  in  those  great  and  publick 
scenes  of  life  which  are  usually  the  subject  of  his 
thoughts :  so  that  he  seems  to  have  known  the 
world  by  intuition,  to  have  looked  through  human 
nature  at  one  glance,  and  to  be  the  only  author 
that  gives  ground  for  a  very  new  opinion,  that  the 
philosopher,  and  even  the  man  of  the  world,  may 
be  born,  as  well  as  the  poet. 

It  must  be  owned,  that  with  all  these  great  ex- 
cellencies, he  has  almost  as  great  defects;  and  that 
as  he  has  certainly  written  better,  so  he  has  perhaps 
written  worse,  than  any  other.  But  I  think  I  can 
in  some  measure  account  for  these  defects,  from 
several  causes  and  accidents ;  without  which  it  is 
hard  to  imagine  that  so  large  and  so  enlightened  a 
mind  could  ever  have  been  susceptible  of  them. 
That  all  these  contingencies  should  unite  to  his 
disadvantage  seems  to  me  almost  as  singularly 
unlucky,  as  that  so  many  various  (nay  contrary) 
talents  should  meet  in  one  man,  was  happy  and 
extraordinary. 

It  must  be  allowed  that  stage-poetry,  of  all  other, 
is  more  particularly  levelled  to  please  the  populace, 
and  its  success  more  immediately  depending  upon 
the  common  suffrage.  One  cannot  therefore  wonder, 
if  Shakspeare,  having  at  his  first  appearance  no 
other  aim  in  his  writings  than  to  procure  a  subsist- 
ence, directed  his  endeavours  solely  to  hit  the  taste 
and  humour  that  then  prevailed.  The  audience 
was  generally  composed  of  the  meaner  sort  of 
people ;  and  therefore  the  images  of  life  were  to 
be  drawn  from  those  of  their  own  rank  :  accord- 
ingly we  find,  that  not  our  author's  only,  but  almost 
all  the  old  comedies  have  their  scene  among  trades- 


172  MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE. 

men  and  mechanicks:  and  even  their  historical  plays 
strictly  follow  the  common  old  stories  or  vulgar 
traditions  of  that  kind  of  people.  In  tragedy,  no- 
thing was  so  sure  to  surprize  and  cause  admiration, 
as  the  most  strange,  unexpected,  and  consequently 
most  unnatural,  events  and  incidents ;  the  most 
exaggerated  thoughts ;  the  most  verbose  and  bom- 
bast expression ;  the  most  pompous  rhymes,  and 
thundering  versification.  In  comedy,  nothing  was 
so  sure  to  please,  as  mean  buffoonery,  vile  ribaldry, 
and  unmannerly  jests  of  fools  and  clowns.  Yet 
even  in  these  our  author's  wit  buoys  up,  and  is 
borne  above  his  subject :  his  genius  in  those  low 
parts  is  like  some  prince  of  a  romance  in  the  dis- 
guise of  a  shepherd  or  peasant ;  a  certain  greatness 
and  spirit  now  and  then  break  out,  which  manifest 
his  higher  extraction  and  qualities. 

It  may  be  added,  that  not  only  the  common 
audience  had  no  notion  of  the  rules  of  writing, 
but  few  even  of  the  better  sort  piqued  themselves 
upon  any  great  degree  of  knowledge  or  nicety  that 
way ;  till  Ben  Jonson  getting  possession  of  the 
stage,  brought  critical  learning  into  vogue :  and 
that  this  was  not  done  without  difficulty,  may  ap- 
pear from  those  frequent  lessons  (and  indeed  almost 
declamations)  which  he  was  forced  to  prefix  to  his 
first  plays,  and  put  into  the  mouth  of  his  actors, 
the  grex,  chorus,  &c.  to  remove  the  prejudices,  and 
inform  the  judgment  of  his  hearers.  Till  then, 
our  authors  had  no  thoughts  of  writing  on  the 
model  of  the  ancients :  their  tragedies  were  only 
histories  in  dialogue ;  and  their  comedies  followed 
the  thread  of  any  novel  as  they  found  it,  no  less 
implicitly  than  it  it  had  been  true  history. 

To  judge  therefore  of  Shakspeare  by  Aristotle's 
rules,  is  like  trying  a  man  by  the  laws  of  one  coun- 


MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE.  173 

try,  who  acted  under  those  of  another.  He  writ 
to  the  people;  and  writ  at  first  without  patronage 
from  the  better  sort,  and  therefore  without  aims  of 
pleasing  them :  without  assistance  or  advice  from 
the  learned,  as  without  the  advantage  of  education 
or  acquaintance  among  them  ;  without  that  know- 
ledge of  the  best  models,  the  ancients,  to  inspire 
him  with  an  emulation  of  them ;  in  a  word,  with- 
out any  views  of  reputation,  and  of  what  poets  are 
pleased  to  call  immortality :  some  or  all  of  which 
have  encouraged  the  vanity,  or  animated  the  ambi- 
tion, of  other  writers. 

Yet  it  must  be  observed,  that  when  his  per- 
formances had  merited  the  protection  of  his  prince, 
and  when  the  encouragement  of  the  court  had 
succeeded  to  that  of  the  town  ;  the  works  of  his 
riper  years  are  manifestly  raised  above  those  of  his 
former.  The  dates  of  his  plays  sufficiently  evidence 
that  his  productions  improved,  in  proportion  to 
the  respect  he  had  for  his  auditors.  And  I  make 
no  doubt  this  observation  will  be  found  true  in 
every  instance,  were  but  editions  extant  from  which 
we  might  learn  the  exact  time  when  every  piece 
was  composed,  and  whether  writ  for  the  town,  or 
the  court. 

Another  cause  (and  no  less  strong  than  the 
former)  may  be  deduced  from  our  poet's  being  a 
player^  and  forming  himself  first  upon  the  judge- 
ments of  that  body  of  men  whereof  he  was  a 
member.  They  have  ever  had  a  standard  to  them- 
selves,upon  other  principles  than  those  of  Aristotle. 
As  they  live  by  the  majority,  they  know  no  rule 
but  that  of  pleasing  the  present  humour,  and  com- 
plying with  the  wit  in  fashion  ;  a  consideration 
which  brings  all  their  judgment  to  a  short  point. 
Players  are  just  such  judges  ol*  what  is  right,  as 


174  MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE. 

tailors  are  of  what  is  graceful.  And  in  this  view  it 
will  be  but  fair  to  allow,  that  most  of  our  author's 
faults  are  less  to  be  ascribed  to  his  wrong  judg- 
ment as  a  poet,  than  to  his  right  judgment  as  a 
player. 

By  these  men  it  would  be  thought  a  praise  to 
Shakspeare,  that  he  scarce  ever  blotted  a  line.  This 
they  industriously  propagated,  as  appears  from 
what  we  are  told  by  Ben  Jonson  in  his  Discoveries, 
and  from  the  preface  of  Heminge  and  Condell  to 
the  first  folio  edition.  But  in  reality  (however  it 
has  prevailed)  there  never  was  a  more  groundless 
report,  or  to  the  contrary  of  which  there  are  more 
undeniable  evidences.  As,  the  comedy  of  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  which  he  entirely  new 
writ;  The  History  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  which  was 
first  published  under  the  title  of  The  Contention  of 
York  and  Lancaster  ;  and  that  of  Henry  the  Fifth, 
extremely  improved ;  that  of  Hamlet  enlarged  to 
almost  as  much  again  as  at  first,  and  many  others. 
I  believe  the  common  opinion  of  his  want  of  learn- 
ing proceeded  from  no  better  ground.  This  too 
might  be  thought  a  praise  by  some,  and  to  this 
his  errors  have  as  injudiciously  been  ascribed  by 
others.  For  'tis  certain,  were  it  true,  it  would 
concern  but  a  small  part  of  them  ;  the  most  are 
such  as  are  not  properly  defects,  but  superfceta- 
tions :  and  arise  not  from  want  of  learning  or  read- 
ing, but  from  want  of  thinking  or  judging :  or 
rather  (to  be  more  just  to  our  author)  from  a  com- 
pliance to  those  wants  in  others.  As  to  a  wrong 
choice  of  the  subject,  a  wrong  conduct  of  the  in- 
cidents, false  thoughts,  forced  expressions,  &c.  if 
these  are  not  to  be  ascribed  to  the  foresaid  acci- 
dental reasons,  they  must  be  charged  upon  the 
poet  himself,  and  there  is  no  help  for  it.     But  I 


MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE.  175 

think  the  two  disadvantages  which  I  have  men- 
tioned (to  be  obliged  to  please  the  lowest  of  the 
people,  and  to  keep  the  worst  of  company)  if 
the  consideration  be  extended  as  far  as  it  reason- 
ably may,  will  appear  sufficient  to  mislead  and 
depress  the  greatest  genius  upon  earth.  Nay,  the 
more  modesty  with  which  such  a  one  is  endued, 
the  more  he  is  in  danger  of  submitting  and  con- 
forming to  others,  against  his  own  better  judg- 
ment. 

But  as  to  his  "want  of  learning,  it  may  be  neces- 
sary to  say  something  more :  there  is  certainly  a 
vast  difference  between  learning  and  languages. 
How  far  he  was  ignorant  of  the  latter,  I  cannot 
determine  ;  but  it  is  plain  he  had  much  reading  at 
least,  if  they  will  not  call  it  learning.  Nor  is  it 
any  great  matter,  if  a  man  has  knowledge,  whether 
he  has  it  from  one  language  or  from  another. 
Nothing  is  more  evident  than  that  he  had  a  taste 
of  natural  philosophy,  mechanicks,  ancient  and 
modern  history,  poetical  learning,  and  mythology: 
we  find  him  very  knowing  in  the  customs,  rites,  and 
manners  of  antiquity.  In  Coriolanus  and  Julius 
Ccesar,  not  only  the  spirit,  but  manners,  of  the 
Romans  are  exactly  drawn ;  and  still  a  nicer  dis- 
tinction is  shown  between  the  manners  of  the 
Romans  in  the  time  of  the  former,  and  of  the 
latter.  His  reading  in  the  ancient  historians  is  no 
less  conspicuous,  in  many  references  to  particular 
passages :  and  the  speeches  copied  from  Plutarch 
in  Coriolanus2  may,  I  think,  as  well  be  made  an 
instance  of  his  learning,  as  those  copied  from  Ci- 
cero in  Catiline  of  Ben  Jonson's.     The  manners  of 


•  These,  as  the  reader  will  find  in  the  notes  on  that  play, 
Shakspeare  drew  from  Sir  Thomas  North's  translation,  \5jg. 

MalonA. 


176  MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE. 

other  nations  in  general,  the  Egyptians,  Venetians, 
French,  &c.  are  drawn  with  equal  propriety. 
Whatever  object  of  nature,  or  branch  of  science, 
he  either  speaks  of  or  describes,  it  is  always  with 
competent,  if  not  extensive  knowledge :  his  de- 
scriptions are  still  exact ;  all  his  metaphors  ap- 
propriated, and  remarkably  drawn  from  the  true 
nature  and  inherent  qualities  of  each  subject. 
When  he  treats  of  ethick  or  politick,  we  may  con- 
stantly observe  a  wonderful  justness  of  distinction, 
as  well  as  extent  of  comprehension.  No  one  is 
more  a  master  of  the  political  story,  or  has  more 
frequent  allusions  to  the  various  parts  of  it :  Mr. 
Waller  (who  has  been  celebrated  for  this  last  par- 
ticular) has  not  shown  more  learning  this  way  than 
Shakspeare.  We  have  translations  from  Ovid  pub- 
lished in  his  name,3  among  those  poems  which  pass 
for  his,  and  for  some  of  which  we  have  undoubted 
authority  (being  published  by  himself,  and  dedi- 
cated to  his  noble  patron  the  Earl  of  Southampton) : 
he  appears  also  to  have  been  conversant  in  Plautus, 
from  whom  he  has  taken  the  plot  of  one  of  his 
plays :  he  follows  the  Greek  authors,  and  parti- 
cularly Dares  Phrygius,  in  another,  (although  I 
will  not  pretend  to  say  in  what  language  he  read 
them).  The  modern  Italian  writers  of  novels  he 
was  manifestly  acquainted  with ;  and  we  may  con- 
clude him  to  be  no  less  conversant  with  the  ancients 
of  his  own  country,  from  the  use  he  has  made  of 
Chaucer  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  and  in  The  Two 
Noble  Kinsmen,  if  that  play  be  his,  as  there  goes  a 
tradition  it  was  (and  indeed  it  has  little  resemblance 
of  Fletcher,  and  more  of  our  author  than  some  of 
those  which  have  been  received  as  genuine). 

•  They  were  written  by  Thomas  Hey  wood.     See  [Mr.  Ma.- 
hme's]  Vol.  X.  p.  321,  n.  1.    Malone. 


MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE.  177 

I  am  inclined  to  think  this  opinion  proceeded 
originally  from  the  zeal  of  the  partizans  of  our 
author  and  Ben  Jonson ;  as  they  endeavoured  to 
exalt  the  one  at  the  expence  of  the  other.     It  is 
ever  the  nature  of  parties  to  be  in  extremes ;  and 
nothing  is  so  probable,  as  that  because  Ben  Jonson 
had  much  the  more  learning,  it  was  said  on  the  one 
hand  that  Shakspeare  had  none  at  all;  and  because 
Shakspeare  had  much  the  most  wit  and  fancy,  it 
was  retorted  on  the  other,  that  Jonson  wanted  both. 
Because  Shakspeare  borrowed  nothing,  it  was  said 
that  Ben  Jonson  borrowed  every  thing.     Because 
Jonson  did  not  write  extempore,  he  was  reproached 
with  being  a  year  about  every  piece ;  and  because 
Shakspeare   wrote  with  ease   and  rapidity,  they 
cried,  he  never  once  made  a  blot.     Nay,  the  spirit 
of  opposition  ran  so  high,  that  whatever  those  of 
the  one  side  objected  to  the  other,  was  taken  at 
the  rebound,  and  turned  into  praises ;  as  injudi- 
ciously, as  their  antagonists  before  had  made  them 
objections. 

Poets  are  always  afraid  of  envy;  but  sure  they 
have  as  much  reason  to  be  afraid  of  admiration. 
They  are  the  Scylla  and  Charybdis  of  authors ; 
those  who  escape  one,  often  fall  by  the  other. 
Pessimum genus  inimicorum  laudantes,  says  Tacitus; 
and  Virgil  desires  to  wear  a  charm  against  those 
who  praise  a  poet  without  rule  or  reason : 

" si  ultra  placitum  laudarit,  baccare  frontem 

"  Cingite,  ne  vati  noceat— — ." 

But  however  this  contention  might  be  carried  on 
by  the  partizans  on  either  side,  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing these  two  great  poets  were  good  friends,  and 
lived  on  amicable  terms,  and  in  offices  of  society 

VOL.  I.  N 


178  MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE. 

with  each  other.  It  is  an  acknowledged  fact,  that 
Ben  Jonson  was  introduced  upon  the  stage,  and 
his  first  works  encouraged,  by  Shakspeare.  And 
after  his  death,  that  author  writes,  To  the  memory 
of  his  beloved  William  Shakspeare,  which  shows  as 
if  the  friendship  had  continued  through  life.  I  can- 
not for  my  own  part  find  any  thing  invidious  or 
sparing  in  those  verses,  but  wonder  Mr.  Dry  den  was 
of  that  opinion.  He  exalts  him  not  only  above 
all  his  contemporaries,  but  above  Chaucer  and 
Spenser,  whom  he  will  not  allow  to  be  great  enough 
to  be  ranked  with  him ;  and  challenges  the  names 
of  Sophocles,  Euripides,  and  ^Eschylus,  nay,  all 
Greece  and  Rome  at  once,  to  equal  him :  and 
(which  is  very  particular)  expressly  vindicates  him 
from  the  imputation  of  wanting  art,  not  enduring 
that  all  his  excellencies  should  be  attributed  to 
nature.  It  is  remarkable  too,  that  the  praise  he 
gives  him  in  his  Discoveries  seems  to  proceed  from  a 
personal  kindness;  he  tells  us,  that  he  loved  the  man, 
as  well  as  honoured  his  memory ;  celebrates  the  ho- 
nesty, openness,  and  frankness  of  his  temper;  and 
only  distinguishes,  as  he  reasonably  ought,  between 
the  real  merit  of  the  author,  and  the  silly  and 
derogatory  applauses  of  the  players.  Ben  Jonson 
might  indeed  be  sparing  in  his  commendations 
(though  certainly  he  is  not  so  in  this  instance)  partly 
from  his  own  nature,  and  partly  from  judgment. 
For  men  of  judgment  think  they  do  any  man  more 
service  in  praising  him  justly,  than  lavishly.  I  say, 
I  would  fain  believe  they  were  friends,  though  the 
violence  and  ill-breeding  of  their  followers  and 
flatterers  were  enough  to  give  rise  to  the  contrary 
report.  I  hope  that  it  may  be  with  parties,  both 
in  wit  and  state,  as  with  those  monsters  described 
by  the  poets  \  and  that  their  heads  at  least  may  have 


MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE.  179 

something  human,  though  their  bodies  and  tails  are 
wild  beasts  and  serpents. 

As  I  believe  that  what  I  have  mentioned  gave 
rise  to  the  opinion  of  Shakspeare's  want  of  learn- 
ing ;  so  what  has  continued  it  down  to  us  may  have 
been  the  many  blunders  and  illiteracies  of  the  first 
publishers  of  his  works.  In  these  editions  their 
ignorance  shines  in  almost  every  page ;  nothing  is 
more  common  than  Actus  tertia.  Exit  omnes.  Enter 
three  Witches  solus*  Their  French  is  as  bad  as 
their  Latin,  both  in  construction  and  spelling:  their 
very  Welsh  is  false.  Nothing  is  more  likely  than  that 
those  palpable  blunders  of  Hector's  quoting  Ari- 
stotle, with  others  of  that  gross  kind,  sprung  from 
the  same  root:  it  not  being  at  all  credible  that  these 
could  be  the  errors  of  any  man  who  had  the  least 
tincture  of  a  school,  or  the  least  conversation  with 
such  as  had.  Ben  Jonson  (whom  they  will  not 
think  partial  to  him)  allows  him  at  least  to  have 
had  some  Latin ;  which  is  utterly  inconsistent  with 
mistakes  like  these.  Nay,  the  constant  blunders 
in  proper  names  of  persons  and  places,  are  such  as 
must  have  proceeded  from  a  man,  who  had  not  so 
much  as  read  any  history  in  any  language:  so  could 
not  be  Shakspeare's. 

I  shall  now  lay  before  the  reader  some  of  those 
almost  innumerable  errors,  which  have  risen  from 
one  source,  the  ignorance  of  the  players,  both  as 
his  actors,  and  as  his  editors.  When  the  nature 
and  kinds  of  these  are  enumerated  and  considered, 
I  dare  to  say  that  not  Shakspeare  only,  but  Aristotle 


'  Enter  three  Witches  solus.]  This  blunder  appears  to  be  of 
Mr.  Pope's  own  invention.  It  is  not  to  be  found  in  any  one  of 
the  four  folio  copies  of  Macbeth,  and  there  is  no  quarto  edition  of 
it  extant.     Stekvzns. 

N  2 


180  MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE. 

or  Cicero,  had  their  works  undergone  the  same 
fate,  might  have  appeared  to  want  sense  as  well  as 
learning. 

It  is  not  certain  that  any  one  of  his  plays  was 
published  by  himself.  During  the  time  of  his  em- 
ployment in  the  theatre,  several  of  his  pieces  were 
printed  separately  in  quarto.  What  makes  me 
think  that  most  of  these  were  not  published  by 
him,  is  the  excessive  carelessness  of  the  press:  every 
page  is  so  scandalously  false  spelled,  and  almost  all 
the  learned  and  unusual  words  so  intolerably  man- 
gled, that  it  is  plain  there  either  was  no  corrector 
to  the  press  at  all,  or  one  totally  illiterate.  If  any 
were  supervised  by  himself,  I  should  fancy  The  Two 
Parts  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  and  Midsummer-Night's 
Dream,  might  have  been  so:  because  I  find  no  other 
printed  with  any  exactness ;  and  (contrary  to  the 
rest)  there  is  very  little  variation  in  all  the  subse- 
quent editions  of  them.  There  are  extant  two 
prefaces  to  the  first  quarto  edition  of  Troilus  and 
Cressida  in  1609,  and  to  that  of  Othello;  by  which 
it  appears,  that  the  first  was  published  without  his 
knowledge  or  consent,  and  even  before  itwas  acted, 
so  late  as  seven  or  eight  years  before  he  died :  and 
that  the  latter  was  not  printed  till  after  his  death. 
The  whole  number  of  genuine  plays,  which  we 
have  been  able  to  find  printed  in  his  life-time, 
amounts  but  to  eleven.  And  of  some  of  these,  we 
meet  with  two  or  more  editions  by  different  printers, 
each  of  which  has  whole  heaps  of  trash  different 
from  the  other:  which  I  should  fancy  was  occa- 
sioned by  their  being  taken  from  different  copies 
belonging  to  different  playhouses. 

The  folio  edition  (in  which  all  the  plays  we  now 
receive  as  his  were  first  collected)  was  published 
by  two  players,  Heminge  and  Condell,  in  1623, 


MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE.  181 

seven  years  after  his  decease.  They  declare,  that 
all  the  other  editions  were  stolen  and  surreptitious, 
and  affirm  theirs  to  be  purged  from  the  errors  of 
the  former.  This  is  true  as  to  the  literal  errors, 
and  no  other ;  for  in  all  respects  else  it  is  far  worse 
than  the  quartos. 

First,  because  the  additions  of  trifling  and  bom- 
bast passages  are  in  this  edition  far  more  numerous. 
For  whatever  had  been  added,  since  those  quartos, 
by  the  actors,  or  had  stolen  from  their  mouths  into 
the  written  parts,  were  from  thence  conveyed  into 
the  printed  text,  and  all  stand  charged  upon  the 
author.  He  himself  complained  of  this  usage  in 
Hamlet,  where  he  wishes  that  those  who  play  the 
clowns  would  speak  no  more  than  is  set  down  for  them, 
(Act  III.  sc.  ii.)  But  as  a  proof  that  he  could  not 
escape  it,  in  the  old  editions  of  Romeo  and  Juliet 
there  is  no  hint  of  a  great  number  of  the  mean 
conceits  and  ribaldries  now  to  be  found  there.  In 
others,  the  low  scenes  of  mobs,  plebeians,  and 
clowns,  are  vastly  shorter  than  at  present :  and  I 
have  seen  one  in  particular  (which  seems  to  have 
belonged  to  the  play-house,  by  having  the  parts 
divided  with  lines,  and  the  actors  names  in  the 
margin)  where  several  of  those  very  passages  were 
added  in  a  written  hand,  which  are  since  to  be 
found  in  the  folio. 

In  the  next  place,  a  number  of  beautiful  pas- 
sages, which  are  extant  in  the  first  single  editions, 
are  omitted  in  this  :  as  it  seems,  without  any  other 
reason,than  their  willingnesstoshorten  some  scenes: 
these  men  (as  it  was  said  of  Procrustes)  either  lop- 
ping, or  stretching  an  author,  to  make  him  just  fit 
for  their  stage. 

This  edition  is  said  to  be  printed  from  the  origi- 
nal copies;  I  believe  they  meant  those  which  had 


182  MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE. 

lain  ever  since  the  author's  days  in  the  play-house, 
and  had  from  time  to  time  been  cut,  or  added  to, 
arbitrarily.  It  appears  that  this  edition,  as  well  as 
the  quartos,  was  printed  (at  least  partly)  from  no 
better  copies  than  the  prompter  s  book,  or  piece-meal 
parts  written  out  for  the  use  of  the  actors  :  for  in 
some  places  their  very5  names  are  through  careless- 
ness set  down  instead  of  the  Personce  Dramatis; 
and  in  others  the  notes  of  direction  to  the  property- 
men  for  their  moveables,  and  to  the,  players  for  their 
entries,  are  inserted  into  the  text6  through  the  ig- 
norance of  the  transcribers. 

The  plays  not  having  been  before  so  much  as 
distinguished  by  Acts  and  Scenes,  they  are  in  this 
edition  divided  according  as  they  played  them; 
often  when  there  is  no  pause  in  the  action,  or 
where  they  thought  fit  to  make  a  breach  in  it,  for 
the  sake  of  musick,  masques,  or  monsters. 

Sometimes  the  scenes  are  transposed  and  shuffled 
backward  and  forward ;  a  thing  which  could  no 
otherwise  happen,  but  by  their  being  taken  from 
separate  and  piece-meal  written  parts. 

Many  verses  are  omitted  entirely,  and  others 
transposed  ;  from  whence  invincible  obscurities 
have  arisen,  past  the  guess  of  any  commentator 
to  clear  up,  but  just  where  the  accidental  glimpse 
of  an  old  edition  enlightens  us. 

*  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  Act  II:  "  Enter  Prince  Leonato, 
Claudio,  and  Jack  Wilson"  instead  of  Balthasar.  And  in 
Act  IV.  Coialey  and  Kemp  constantly  through  a  whole  scene. 

Edit.  fol.  of  1023,  and  1632.    Pope. 
0  Such  as 

"  My  queen  is  murder'd !  Ring  the  little  bell." 

"  — His  nose  grew  as  sharp  as  a  pen,  and  a  table  of  green 
Jields;"  which  last  words  are  not  in  the  quarto.     Pope. 

There  is  no  such  line  in  any  play  of  Shakspeare,  as  that 
quoted  above  by  Mr.  Pope.     Malone. 


MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE.  183 

Some  characters  were  confounded  and  mixed,  or 
two  put  into  one,  for  want  of  a  competent  num- 
ber of  actors.  Thus  in  the  quarto  edition  of 
Midsummer-Night' s  Dream,  Act  V.  Shakspeare  in- 
troduces a  kind  of  master  of  the  revels  called 
Philostrate ;  all  whose  part  is  given  to  another  cha- 
racter (that  of  Egeus)  in  the  subsequent  editions : 
so  also  in  Hamlet  and  King  Lear.  This  too  makes 
it  probable  that  the  prompters  books  were  what 
they  called  the  original  copies. 

trom  liberties  01  this  kind,  many  speeches  also 
were  put  into  the  mouths  of  wrong  persons,  v^here 
the  author  now  seems  chargeable  with  making  them 
speak  out  of  character  :  or  sometimes  perhaps  for 
no  better  reason,  than  that  a  governing  player,  to 
have  the  mouthing  of  some  favourite  speech  him- 
self, would  snatch  it  from  the  unworthy  lips  of  an 
underling. 

Prose  from  verse  they  did  not  know,  and  they 
accordingly  printed  one  for  the  other  throughout 
the  volume. 

Having  been  forced  to  say  so  much  of  the  play- 
ers, I  think  I  ought  injustice  to  remark,  that  the 
judgment,  as  well  as  condition  of  that  class  of  peo- 
ple was  then  far  inferior  to  what  it  is  in  our  days. 
As  then  the  best  play-houses  were  inns  and  taverns, 
(the  Globe,  the  Hope,  the  Red  Bull,  the  Fortune, 
&c.)  so  the  top  of  the  profession  were  then  mere 
players,  not  gentlemen  of  the  stage :  they  were  led 
into  the  buttery  by  the  steward;7  not  placed  at  the 

7  Mr.  Pope  probably  recollected  the  following  lines  in  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew,  spoken  by  a  Lord,  who  is  giving  direc- 
tions to  his  servant  concerning  some  players: 
"  (io,  sirrah,  take  them  to  the  buttery, 
"  And  give  them  friendly  welcome,  every  one." 
But  he  seems  not  to  have  observed  that  the  players  here  in- 
troduced were  strollers ;  and  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that 


184  MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE. 

lord's  table,  or  lady's  toilette :  and  consequently 
were  entirely  deprived  of  those  advantages  they 
now  enjoy  in  the  familiar  conversation  of  our  no- 
bility, and  an  intimacy  (not  to  say  dearness)  with 
people  of  the  first  condition. 

From  what  has  been  said,  there  can  be  no  ques- 
tion but  had  Shakspeare  published  his  works  him- 
self (especially  in  his  latter  time,  and  after  his 
retreat  from  the  stage)  we  should  not  only  be  cer- 
tain which  are  genuine,  but  should  find  in  those 
that  are,  the  errors  lessened  by  some  thousands. 
If  I  may  judge  from  all  the  distinguishing  marks  of 
his  style,  and  his  manner  of  thinking  and  writing, 
I  make  no  doubt  to  declare  that  those  wretched 
plays,  Pericles,  Locrine,  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  York- 
shire Tragedy,  Lord  Cromwell,  The  Puritan,  Lon- 
don Prodigal,  and  a  thing  called  The  Double  Fals- 
hood,7  cannot  be  admitted  as  his.  And  I  should 
conjecture  of  some  of  the  others,  (particularly 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,  The  Winter's  Tale,  Comedy 
of  Errors,  and  Titus  Andronicus,)  that  only  some 
characters,  single  scenes,  or  perhaps  a  few  parti- 
cular passages,  were  of  his  hand.  It  is  very  pro- 
bable what  occasioned  some  plays  to  be  supposed 
Shakspeare's,  was  only  this  ;  that  they  were  pieces 
produced  by  unknown  authors,  or  fitted  up  for  the 
theatre  while  it  was  under  his  administration ;  and 
no  owner  claiming  them,  they  were  adjudged  to 
him,  as  they  give  strays  to  the  lord  of  the  manor  : 
a  mistake  which  (one  may  also  observe)  it  was  not 
for  the  interest  of  the  house  to  remove.     Yet  the 

our  author,  Heminge,  Burbage,  Lowin,  &c.  who  were  licensed 
by  King  James,  were  treated  in  this  manner.     Malone. 

7  The  Double  Falshood,  or  The  Distressed  Lovers,  a  play,  acted 
at  Drury  Lane,  8vo.  1727.  This  piece  was  produced  by  Mr. 
Theobald  as  a  performance  of  Shakspeare's.  See  Dr.  Farmer's 
Essay  on  the  Learning  of  Shakspeare,  Vol.  II.    Reed. 


MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE.  185 

players  themselves,  Heminge  and  Condell,  after- 
wards did  Shakspeare  the  justice  to  reject  those 
eight  plays  in  their  edition ;  though  they  were  then 
printed  in  his  name,8  in  every  body's  hands,  and 
acted  with  some  applause  (as  we  learned  from  what 
Ben  Jonson  says  of  Pericles  in  his  ode  on  the  New 
Inn).  That  Titus  Andronicus  is  one  of  this  class  I  am 
the  rather  induced  to  believe,  by  finding  the  same 
author  openly  express  his  contempt  or  it  in  the 
Induction  to  Bartholomew  Fair,  in  the  year  1614, 
when  Shakspeare  was  yet  living.  And  there  is  no 
better  authority  for  these  latter  sort,  than  for  the 
former,  which  were  equally  published  in  his  life- 
time. 

If  we  give  into  this  opinion,  how  many  low  and 
vicious  parts  and  passages  might  no  longer  reflect 
upon  this  great  genius,  but  appear  unworthily 
charged  upon  him  ?  And  even  in  those  which  are 
really  his,  how  many  faults  may  have  been  unjustly 
laid  to  his  account  from  arbitrary  additions,  ex- 
junctions, transpositions  of  scenes  and  lines,  con- 
fusion of  characters  and  persons,  wrong  appli- 
cation of  speeches,  corruptions  of  innumerable 
passages  by  the  ignorance,  and  wrong  corrections 
of  them  again  by  the  impertinence  of  his  first  edi- 
tors ?  From  one  or  other  of  these  considerations, 
I  am  verily  persuaded,  that  the  greatest  and  the 
grossest  part  of  what  are  thought  his  errors  would 
vanish,  and  leave  his  character  in  a  light  very  dif- 
ferent from  that  disadvantageous  one,  in  which  it 
now  appears  to  us. 

This  is  the  state  in  which  Shakspeare's  writings 
lie  at  present;  for  since  the  above-mentioned  folio 
edition,  all  the  rest  have  implicitly  followed  it, 

'  His  name  was  affixed  only  to  four  of  them.    Malonb, 


186  MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE. 

without  having  recourse  to  any  of  the  former,  or 
ever  making  the  comparison  between  them.  It  is 
impossible  to  repair  the  injuries  already  done  him; 
too  much  time  has  elapsed,  and  the  materials  are 
too  few.  In  what  I  have  done  I  have  rather  given 
a  proof  of  my  willingness  and  desire,  than  of  my 
ability,  to  do  him  justice.  I  have  discharged  the 
dull  duty  of  an  editor,  to  my  best  judgment,  with 
more  labour  than  I  expect  thanks,  with  a  religious 
abhorrence  of  all  innovation,  and  without  any  in- 
dulgence to  my  private  sense  or  conjecture.  The 
method  taken  in  this  edition  will  show  itself.  The 
various  readings  are  fairly  put  in  the  margin,  so 
that  every  one  may  compare  them ;  and  those  I 
have  preferred  into  the  text  are  constantly  ex  fide 
codicum,  upon  authority.  The  alterations  or  ad- 
ditions, which  Shakspeare  himself  made,  are  taken 
notice  of  as  they  occur.  Some  suspected  passages, 
which  are  excessively  bad  (and  which  seem  inter- 
polations by  being  so  inserted  that  one  can  en- 
tirely omit  them  without  any  chasm,  or  deficience 
in  the  context)  are  degraded  to  the  bottom  of  the 
page  ;  with  an  asterisk  referring  to  the  places  of 
their  insertion.  The  scenes  are  marked  so  distinctly, 
that  every  removal  of  place  is  specified  ;  which  is 
more  necessary  in  this  author  than  any  other,  since 
he  shifts  them  more  frequently ;  and  sometimes, 
without  attending  to  this  particular,  the  reader 
would  have  met  with  obscurities.  The  more  ob- 
solete or  unusual  words  are  explained.  Some  of 
the  most  shining  passages  are  distinguished  by  com- 
mas in  the  margin ;  and  where  the  beauty  lay 
not  in  particulars,  but  in  the  whole,  a  star  is  pre- 
fixed to  the  scene.  This  seems  to  me  a  shorter 
and  less  ostentatious  method  of  performing  the 
better  half  of  criticism  (namely,  the  pointing  out 


MR.  POPE'S  PREFACE.  187 

an  author's  excellencies)  than  to  fill  a  whole  paper 
with  citations  of  fine  passages,  with  general  ap- 
plauses, or  empty  exclamations  at  the  tail  of  them. 
There  is  also  subjoined  a  catalogue  of  those  first 
editions,  by  which  the  greater  part  of  the  various 
readings  and  of  the  corrected  passages  are  au- 
thorized ;  most  of  which  are  such  as  carry  their 
own  evidence  along  with  them.  These  editions 
now  hold  the  place  of  originals,  and  are  the  only 
materials  left  to  repair  the  deficiencies  or  restore 
the  corrupted  sense  of  the  author  :  I  can  only  wish 
that  a  greater  number  of  them  (if  a  greater  were 
ever  published)  may  yet  be  found,  by  a  search  more 
successful  than  mine,  for  the  better  accomplish- 
ment of  this  end. 

I  will  conclude  by  saying  of  Shakspeare,  that 
with  all  his  faults,  and  with  all  the  irregularity  of 
his  drama,  one  may  look  upon  his  works,  in  com- 
parison of  those  that  are  more  finished  and  regular, 
as  upon  an  ancient  majestick  piece  oi'Gothick  archi- 
tecture, compared  with  a  neat  modern  building : 
the  latter  is  more  elegant  and  glaring,  but  the 
former  is  more  strong  and  more  solemn.  It  must 
be  allowed  that  in  one  of  these  there  are  materials 
enough  to  make  many  of  the  other.  It  has  much 
the  greater  variety,  and  much  the  nobler  apart- 
ments ;  though  we  are  often  conducted  to  them  by 
dark,  odd,  and  uncouth  passages.  Nor  does  the 
whole  fail  to  strike  us  with  greater  reverence, 
though  many  of  the  parts  are  childish,  ill-placed, 
and  unequal  to  its  grandeur.9 

9  The  following  passage  by  Mr.  Pope  stands  as  a  preface  to  the 
various  readings  at  the  end  of  the  8th  volume  of  his  edition  of 
Shakspeare,  1728.  For  the  notice  of  it  I  am  indebted  to  Mr. 
Chalmers's  Supplemental  Apology,  p.  2Gl.     Heed. 

"  Since  the  publication  of  our  first  edition,  there  having  been 


MR.  THEOBALD'S 

PREFACE.' 


THE  attempt  to  write  upon  Shakspeare  is  like 
going  into  a  large,  a  spacious,  and  a  splendid  dome, 
through  the  conveyance  of  a  narrow  and  obscure 
entry.  A  glare  of  light  suddenly  breaks  upon 
you  beyond  what  the  avenue  at  first  promised ; 
and  a  thousand  beauties  of  genius  and  character, 


some  attempts  upon  Shakspeare  published  by  Lewis  Theobald, 
(which  he  would  not  communicate  during  the  time  wherein  that 
edition  was  preparing  for  the  press,  when  tve,  by  publick  adver- 
tisements, did  request  the  assistance  of  all  lovers  of  this  author,) 
toe  have  inserted,  in  this  impression,  as  many  of  'em  as  are 
judg'd  of  any  the  least  advantage  to  the  poet;  the  whole  amount- 
ing to  about  tiuenty-jive  words. 

"  But  to  the  end  every  reader  may  judge  for  himself,  we  have 
annexed  a  compleat  list  of  the  rest ;  which  if  he  shall  think  tri- 
vial, or  erroneous,  either  in  part,  or  in  whole ;  at  worst  it  can 
spoil  but  a  half  sheet  of  paper,  that  chances  to  be  left  vacant 
here.  And  we  purpose  for  the  future,  to  do  the  same  with  re- 
spect to  any  other  persons,  who  either  thro*  candor  or  vanity, 
shall  communicate  or  publish,  the  least  things  tending  to  the 
illustration  of  our  author.  We  have  here  omitted  nothing  but 
pointings  and  meer  errors  of  the  press,  which  I  hope  the  cor- 
rector of  it  has  rectify'd ;  if  not,  I  cou'd  wish  as  accurate  an  one 
as  Mr.  Th.  [if  he]  had  been  at  that  trouble,  which  I  desired  Mr. 
Tonson  to  solicit  him  to  undertake.     A.  P." 

1  This  is  Mr.  Theobald's  preface  to  his  second  edition  in  1740, 
and  was  much  curtailed  by  himself  after  it  had  been  prefixed  to 
the  impression  in  1733.    Steevens. 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.      189 

like  so  many  gaudy  apartments  pouring  at  once 
upon  the  eye,  diffuse  and  throw  themselves  out  to 
the  mind.  The  prospect  is  too  wide  to  come  within 
the  compass  of  a  single  view  :  it  is  a  gay  confusion 
of  pleasing  objects,  too  various  to  be  enjoyed  but 
in  a  general  admiration  ;  and  they  must  be  sepa- 
rated and  eyed  distinctly,  in  order  to  give  the 
proper  entertainment. 

And  as,  in  great  piles  of  building,  some  parts  are 
often  finished  up  to  hit  the  taste  of  the  connois- 
seur; others  more  negligentlyput  together,  to  strike 
the  fancy  of  a  common  and  unlearned  beholder; 
some  parts  are  made  stupendously  magnificent  and 
grand,  to  surprise  with  the  vast  design  and  execu- 
tion of  the  architect ;  others  are  contracted,  to 
amuse  you  with  his  neatness  and  elegance  in  little ; 
so,  in  Shakspeare,  we  may  find  traits  that  will  stand 
the  test  of  the  severest  judgment ;  and  strokes  as 
carelessly  hit  off,  to  the  level  of  the  more  ordinary 
capacities ;  some  descriptions  raised  to  that  pitch 
of  grandeur,  as  to  astonish  you  with  the  compass 
and  elevation  of  his  thought ;  and  others  copying 
nature  within  so  narrow,  so  confined  a  circle,  as  if 
the  author's  talent  lay  only  at  drawing  in  minia- 
ture. 

In  how  many  points  of  light  must  we  be  obliged 
to  gaze  at  this  great  poet!  In  how  many  branches 
of  excellence  to  consider  and  admire  him!  Whe- 
ther we  view  him  on  the  side  of  art  or  nature,  he 
ought  equally  to  engage  our  attention:  whether  we 
respect  the  force  and  greatness  of  his  genius,  the 
extent  of  his  knowledge  and  reading,  the  power 
and  address  with  which  he  throws  out  and  applies 
either  nature  or  learning,  there  is  ample  scope  both 
for  our  wonder  and  pleasure.  If  his  diction,  and 
the  clothing  of  his  thoughts  attract  us,  how  much 


190      MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

more  must  we  be  charmed  with  the  richness  and 
variety  of  his  images  and  ideas !  If  his  images  and 
ideas  steal  into  our  souls,  and  strike  upon  our  fancy, 
how  much  are  they  improved  in  price  when  we 
come  to  reflect  with  what  propriety  and  justness 
they  are  applied  to  character!  If  we  look  into  his 
characters,  and  how  they  are  furnished  and  propor- 
tioned to  the  employment  he  cuts  out  for  them, 
how  are  we  taken  up  with  the  mastery  of  his  por- 
traits !  What  draughts  of  nature!  What  variety  of 
originals,  and  how  differing  each  from  the  other  ! 
How  are  they  dressed  from  the  stores  of  his  own 
luxurious  imagination  ;  without  being  the  apes  of 
mode,  or  borrowing  from  any  foreign  wardrobe ! 
Each  of  them  are  the  standards  of  fashion  for  them- 
selves :  like  gentlemen  that  are  above  the  direction 
of  their  tailors,  and  can  adorn  themselves  without 
the  aid  of  imitation.  If  other  poets  draw  more 
than  one  fool  or  coxcomb,  there  is  the  same  resem- 
blance in  them,  as  in  that  painter's  draughts  who 
was  happy  only  at  forming  a  rose ;  you  find  them 
all  younger  brothers  of  the  same  family,  and  all 
of  them  have  a  pretence  to  give  the  same  crest : 
but  Shakspeare's  clowns  and  fops  come  all  of  a 
different  house  ;  they  are  no  farther  allied  to  one 
another  than  as  man  to  man,  members  of  the  same 
species ;  but  as  different  in  features  and  lineaments 
of  character,  as  we  are  from  one  another  in  face  or 
complexion.  But  I  am  unawares  launching  into 
his  character  as  a  writer,  before  I  have  said  what 
I  intended  of  him  as  a  private  member  of  the  re- 
publick. 

Mr.  Rowe  has  very  justly  observed,  that  people 
are  fond  of  discovering  any  little  personal  story  of 
the  great  men  of  antiquity ;  and  that  the  common 
accidents  of  their  lives  naturally  become  the  sub- 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.       191 

ject  of  our  critical  enquiries:  that  however  trifling 
such  a  curiosity  at  the  first  view  may  appear,  yet, 
as  for  what  relates  to  men  and  letters,  the  know- 
ledge of  an  author  may,  perhaps,  sometimes  con. 
duce  to  the  better  understanding  his  works ;  and, 
indeed,  this  author's  works,  from  the  bad  treat- 
ment he  has  met  with  from  copyists  and  editors, 
have  so  long  wanted  a  comment,  that  one  would 
zealously  embrace  every  method  of  information 
that  could  contribute  to  recover  them  from  the 
injuries  with  which  they  have  so  long  lain  over- 
whelmed. 

'Tis  certain,  that  if  we  have  first  admired  the 
man  in  his  writings,  his  case  is  so  circumstanced, 
that  we  must  naturally  admire  the  writings  in  the 
man :  that  if  we  go  back  to  take  a  view  of  his 
education,  and  the  employment  in  life  which  for- 
tune had  cut  out  for  him,  we  shall  retain  the 
stronger  ideas  of  his  extensive  genius. 

His  father,  we  are  told,  was  a  considerable 
dealer  in  wool ;  but  having  no  fewer  than  ten 
children,  of  whom  our  Shakspeare  was  the  eldest, 
the  best  education  he  could  afford  him  was  no 
better  than  to  qualify  him  for  his  own  business 
and  employment.  I  cannot  affirm  with  any  cer- 
tainty how  long  his  father  lived ;  but  I  take  him 
to  be  the  same  Mr.  John  Shakspeare  who  was 
living  in  the  year  1599,  and  who  then,  in  honour 
of  his  son,  took  out  an  extract  of  his  family  arms 
from  the  herald's  office ;  by  which  it  appears,  that 
he  had  been  officer  and  bailiff  of  Stratford-upon- 
Avon,  in  Warwickshire;  and  that  he  enjoyed  some 
hereditary  lands  and  tenements,  the  reward  of  his 
great  grandfather's  faithful  and  approved  service 
to  King  Henry  VII. 

Be  tliis  as  it  will,  our  Shakspeare,  it  seems,  was 


192      MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

bred  for  some  time  at  a  free-school ;  the  very  free- 
school,  I  presume,  founded  at  Stratford;  where,  we 
are  told,  he  acquired  what  Latin  he  was  master  of: 
but  that  his  father  being  obliged,  through  narrow- 
ness of  circumstances,  to  withdraw  him  too  soon 
from  thence,  he  was  thereby  unhappily  prevented 
from  making  any  proficiency  in  the  dead  languages ; 
a  point  that  will  deserve  some  little  discussion  in 
the  sequel  of  this  dissertation. 

How  long  he  continued  in  his  father's  way  of 
business,  either  as  an  assistant  to  him,  or  on  his 
own  proper  account,  no  notices  are  left  to  inform 
us :  nor  have  I  been  able  to  learn  precisely  at  what 
period  of  life  he  quitted  his  native  Stratford,  and 
began  his  acquaintance  with  London  and  the  stage. 

In  order  to  settle  in  the  world  after  a  family- 
manner,  he  thought  fit,  Mr.  Rowe  acquaints  us, 
to  marry  while  he  was  yet  very  young.  It  is  cer- 
tain he  did  so :  for  by  the  monument  in  Stratford 
church,  erected  to  the  memory  of  his  daughter 
Susanna,  the  wife  of  John  Hall,  gentleman,  it  ap- 
pears, that  she  died  on  the  2d  of  July,  in  the  year 
1 649,  aged  66.  So  that  she  was  born  in  1 583,  when 
her  father  could  not  be  full  19  years  old ;  who  was 
himself  born  in  the  year  1564.  Nor  was  she  his 
eldest  child,  for  he  had  another  daughter,  Judith, 
who  was  born  before  her,2  and  who  was  married  to 
one  Mr.  Thomas  Quiney.  So  that  Shakspeare  must 
have  entered  into  wedlock  by  that  time  he  was 
turned  of  seventeen  years. 

Whether  the  force  of  inclination  merely,  or 
some  concurring  circumstances  of  convenience  in 
the  match,  prompted  him  to  marry  so  early,  is  not 

*  See  the  extracts  from  the  register-book  of  the  parish  of 
Stratford,  in  a  preceding  page.     Steevens. 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.       19S 

easy  to  be  determined  at  this  distance  ;  but,  it  is 
probable,  a  view  of  interest  might  partly  sway  his 
conduct  in  this  point :  for  he  married  the  daughter 
of  one  Hathaway,  a  substantial  yeoman  in  his 
neighbourhood,  and  she  had  the  start  of  him  in 
age  no  less  than  eight  years.  She  survived  him 
notwithstanding  seven  seasons,  and  died  that  very 
year  the  players  published  the  first  edition  of  his 
works  in  Julio,  anno  Dom.  1623,  at  the  age  of  67 
years,  as  we  likewise  learn  from  her  monument  in 
Stratford  church. 

How  long  he  continued  in  this  kind  of  settle- 
ment, upon  his  own  native  spot,  is  not  more  easily 
to  be  determined.  But  if  the  tradition  be  true,  of 
that  extravagance  which  forced  him  both  to  quit 
his  country  and  way  of  living,  to  wit,  his  being 
engaged  with  a  knot  of  young  deer-stealers,  to 
rob  the  park  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  of  Cherlecot, 
near  Stratford,  the  enterprize  savours  so  much  of 
youth  and  levity,  we  may  reasonably  suppose  it  was 
before  he  could  write  full  man.  Besides,  con- 
sidering he  has  left  us  six-and-thirty  plays  at  least, 
avowed  to  be  genuine;  and  considering  too  that 
he  had  retired  from  the  stage,  to  spend  the  latter 
part  of  his  days  at  his  own  native  Stratford ;  the 
interval  of  time  necessarily  required  for  the  finish- 
ing so  many  dramatick  pieces,  obliges  us  to  suppose 
he  thew  himself  very  early  upon  the  play-house. 
And  as  he  could,  probably,  contract  no  acquaint- 
ance with  the  drama,  while  he  was  driving  on  the 
affair  of  wool  at  home ;  some  time  must  be  lost, 
even  after  he  had  commenced  player,  before  he 
could  attain  knowledge  enough  in  the  science  to 
qualify  himself  for  turning  author. 

It  has  been  observed  by  Mr.  Rowe,that  amongst 
other  extravagancies,  which  our  author  has  given 

vol.  i.  o 


194       MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

to  his  Sir  John  Falstaff  in  The  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor,  he  has  made  him  a  deer-stealer ;  and, 
that  he  might  at  the  same  time  remember  his 
Warwickshire  prosecutor,  under  the  name  of  Jus- 
tice Shallow,  he  has  given  him  very  near  the  same 
coat  of  arms,  which  Dugdale,  in  his  Antiquities  of 
that  county,  describes  for  a  family  there.     There 
are  two  coats,  I  observe,  in  Dugdale,  where  three 
silver  fishes  are  borne  in  the  name  of  Lucy ;  and 
another  coat,  to  the  monument  of  Thomas  Lucy, 
son  of  Sir  William  Lucy,  in  which  are  quartered, 
in  four  several  divisions,  twelve  little  fishes,  three 
in  each  division,  probably  Luces.    This  very  coat, 
indeed,  seems  alluded  to  in  Shallow's  giving  the 
dozen  white  Luces,  and  in  Slender  saying  he  may 
quarter.    When  I  consider  the  exceeding  candour 
and  good-nature  of  our  author  (which  inclined  all 
the  gentler  part  of  the  world  to  love  him,  as  the 
power  of  his  wit  obliged  the  men  of  the  most  deli- 
cate  knowledge  and  polite   learning   to   admire 
him) :   and  that  he  should  throw  this  humorous 
piece  of  satire  at  his  prosecutor,  at  least  twenty 
years  after   the   provocation   given ;    I   am   con- 
fidently persuaded  it  must  be  owing  to  an  unfor- 
giving rancour  on  the  prosecutor's  side :  and,  if 
this  was  the  case,  it  were  pity  but  the  disgrace  of 
such  an  inveteracy  should  remain  as  a  lasting  re- 
proach, and  Shallow  stand  as  a  mark  of  ridicule  to 
stigmatize  his  malice. 

It  is  said,  our  author  spent  some  years  before  his 
death  in  ease,  retirement,  and  the  conversation  of 
his  friends,  at  his  native  Stratford.  I  could  never 
pick  up  any  certain  intelligence,  when  he  relin- 
quished the  stage.  I  know,  it  has  been  mistakenly 
thought  by  some,  that  Spenser's  Thalia,  in  his 
Tears  of  the  Muses,  where  she  laments  the  loss  of 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.       195 

her  Willy  in  the  comick  scene,  has  been  applied  to 
our  author's  quitting  the  stage.  But  Spenser  him- 
self, it  is  well  known,  quitted  the  stage  of  life  in 
the  year  1598 ;  and,  five  years  after  this,  we  find 
Shakspeare's  name  among  the  actors  in  Ben  Jon- 
son's  Sejanus,  which  first  made  its  appearance  in 
the  year  1603.  Nor  surely,  could  he  then  have 
any  thoughts  of  retiring,  since  that  very  year  a 
licence  under  the  privy-seal  was  granted  by  King 
James  I.  to  him  and  Fletcher,  Burbage,  Phillippes, 
Hemings,  Condell,  &c.  authorizing  them  to  exer- 
cise the  art  of  playing  comedies,  tragedies,  &c.  as 
well  at  their  usual  house  called  The  Globe  on  the 
other  side  of  the  water,  as  in  any  other  parts  of 
the  kingdom,  during  his  majesty's  pleasure  (a 
copy  of  which  licence  is  preserved  in  Rymer's 
Fcedera).  Again,  it  is  certain,  that  Shakspeare  did 
not  exhibit  his  Macbeth  till  after  the  Union  was 
brought  about,  and  till  after  King  James  I.  had 
begun  to  touch  for  the  evil:  for  it  is  plain,  he  has 
inserted  compliments  on  both  those  accounts,  upon 
his  royal  master  in  that  tragedy.  Nor,  indeed, 
could  the  number  of  the  dramatick  pieces,  he 
produced,  admit  of  his  retiring  near  so  early  as 
that  period.  So  that  what  Spenser  there  says,  if 
it  relate  at  all  to  Shakspeare,  must  hint  at  some 
occasional  recess  he  made  for  a  time  upon  a  disgust 
taken :  or  the  Willy,  there  mentioned,  must  relate 
to  some  other  favourite  poet.  I  believe,  we  may 
safely  determine,  that  he  had  not  quitted  in  the 
year  1610.  For,  in  his  Tempest,  our  author  makes 
mention  of  the  Bermuda  islands,  which  were  un- 
known ta  the  English,  till,  in  1609,  Sir  John  Sum- 
mers made  a  voyage  to  North-America,,  and  dis- 
covered them,  and  afterwards  invited  some  of  his 
countrymen  to  settle  a  plantation  there.    That  he 

o  2 


196       MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

became  the  private  gentleman  at  least  three  years 
before  his  decease,  is  pretty  obvious  from  another 
circumstance :  I  mean,  from  that  remarkable  and 
well  known  story,  which  Mr.  Rowe  has  given  us 
of  our  author's  intimacy  with  Mr.  John  Combe,  an 
old  gentleman  noted  thereabouts  for  his  wealth 
and  usury ;  and  upon  whom  Shakspeare  made  the 
following  facetious  epitaph : 

"  Ten  in  the  hundred  lies  here  ingrav'd, 

"  'Tis  a  hundred  to  ten  his  soul  is  not  sav'd; 

"  If  any  man  ask,  who  lies  in  this  tomb, 

«*  Oh  !  oh  !  quoth  the  devil,  'tis  my  John-a-Combe." 

This  sarcastical  piece  of  wit  was,  at  the  gentle- 
man's own  request,  thrown  out  extemporally  in  his 
company.  And  this  Mr.  John  Combe  I  take  to  be 
the  same,  who,  by  Dugdale  in  his  Antiquities  of 
Warwickshire,  is  said  to  have  died  in  the  year 
1614,3  and  for  whom,  at  the  upper  end  of  the  quire 
of  the  Guild  of  the  Holy  Cross  at  Stratford,  a  fair 
monument  is  erected,  having  a  statue  thereon  cut 
in  alabaster,  and  in  a  gown,  with  this  epitaph : 
"  Here  lieth  interred  the  body  of  John  Combe, 
esq;  who  died  the  10th  of  July,  1614,  who  be- 
queathed several  annual  charities  to  the  parish  of 
Stratford,  and  1001.  to  be  lent  to  fifteen  poor 
tradesmen  from  three  years  to  three  years,  chang- 
ing the  parties  every  third  year,  at  the  rate  of  fifty 
shillings  per  annum,  the  increase  to  be  distributed 
to  the  almes-poor  there." — The  donation  has  all 
the  air  of  a  rich  and  sagacious  usurer. 

Shakspeare  himself  did  not  survive  Mr.  Combe 


3  By  Mr.  Combe's  Will,  which  is  now  in  the  Prerogative-office 
in  London ,  Shakspeare  had  a  legacy  of  five  pounds  bequeathed 
to  him.    The  Will  is  without  any  date.    Reed. 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.       197 

long,  for  he  died  in  the  year  1616,  the  53d  of  his 
age.  He  lies  buried  on  the  north  side  of  the 
chancel  in  the  great  church  at  Stratford;  where  a 
monument,  decent  enough  for  the  time,  is  erected 
to  him,  and  placed  against  the  wall.  He  is  re- 
presented under  an  arch  in  a  sitting  posture,  a 
cushion  spread  before  him,  with  a  pen  in  his  right 
hand,  and  his  left  rested  on  a  scrowl  of  paper. 
The  Latin  distich,  which  is  placed  under  the 
cushion,  has  been  given  us  by  Mr.  Pope,  or  his 
graver,  in  this  manner : 

"  INGENIO  Pylium,  genio  Socratem,  arte  Maronem, 
"  Terra  tegit,  populus  ruoeret,  Olympus  habet." 

I  confess,  I  do  not  conceive  the  difference  be- 
tween ingenio  and  genio  in  the  first  verse.  They 
seem  to  me  intirely  synonymous  terms ;  nor  was 
the  Pylian  sage  Nestor  celebrated  for  his  inge- 
nuity, but  for  an  experience  and  judgment  owing 
to  his  long  age.  Dugdale,  in  his  Antiquities  of 
Warwickshire,  has  copied  this  distich  with  a  dis- 
tinction which  Mr.  Rowe  has  followed,  and  which 
certainly  restores  us  .  he  true  meaning  of  the  epi- 
taph :  ' 

"  JUDICIO  Pylium,  genio  Socratem,"  &c. 

In  1614,  the  greater  part  of  the  town  of  Strat- 
ford was  consumed  by  fire ;  but  our  Shakspeare's 
house,  among  some  others,  escaped  the  flames. 
This  house  was  first  built  by  Sir  Hugh  Clopton, 
a  younger  brother  of  an  ancient  family  in  that 
neighbourhood,  who  took  their  name  from  the 
manor  of  Clopton.  Sir  Hugh  was  Sheriff  of  Lon- 
don in  the  reign  of  Richard  III.  and  Lord-Mayor 
in  the  reign  of  King  Henry  VIL    To  this  gentle- 


V 


198       MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

man  the  town  of  Stratford  is  indebted  for  the  fine 
stone  bridge,  consisting  of  fourteen  arches,  which, 
at  an  extraordinary  expence,  he  built  over  the 
Avon,  together  with  a  causeway  running  at  the 
west-end  thereof;  as  also  for  rebuilding  the  chapel 
adjoining  to  his  house,  and  the  cross-aisle  in  the 
church  there.  It  is  remarkable  of  him,  that  though 
he  lived  and  died  a  bachelor,  among  the  other  ex- 
tensive charities  which  he  left  both  to  the  city  of 
London  and  town  of  Stratford,  he  bequeathed  con- 
siderable legacies  for  the  marriage  of  poor  maidens 
of  good  name  and  fame  both  in  London  and  at 
Stratford.  Notwithstanding  which  large  donations 
in  his  life,  and  bequests  at  his  death,  as  he  had 
purchased  the  manor  of  Clopton,  and  all  the  estate 
of  the  family;  so  he  left  the  same  again  to  his 
elder  brother's  son  with  a  very  great  addition  :  (a 
proof  how  well  beneficence  and  ceconomy  may 
walk  hand  in  hand  in  wise  families) :  good  part  of 
which  estate  is  yet  in  the  possession  of  Edward 
Clopton,  Esq.  and  Sir  Hugh  Clopton,  Knt.  lineally 
descended  from  the  elder  brother  of  the  first  Sir 
Hugh,  who  particularly  bequeathed  to  his  nephew, 
by  his  will,  his  house,  by  the  name  of  his  Great 
House  in  Stratford. 

The  estate  had  now  been  sold  out  of  the  Clopton 
family  for  above  a  century,  at  the  time  when  Shak- 
.speare  became  the  purchaser;  who,  having  repair- 
ed and  modelled  it  to  his  own  mind,  changed  the 
name  to  New-Place,  which  the  mansion-house, 
since  erected  upon  the  same  spot,  at  this  day  re- 
tains. The  house  and  lands,  which  attended  it, 
continued  in  Shakspeare's  descendants  to  the  time 
of  the  Restoration;  when  they  were  re-purchased  by 
the  Clopton  family,  and  the  mansion  now  belongs 
_to  Sir  Hugh  Clopton,  Knt.    To  the  favour  of  this 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.       199 

worthy  gentleman  I  owe  the  knowledge  of  one 
particular,  in  honour  of  our  poet's  once  dwelling- 
house,  of  which,  I  presume,  Mr.  Rowe  never  was 
apprized.  When  the  civil  war  raged  in  England, 
and  King  Charles  the  First's  queen  was  driven  by 
the  necessity  of  affairs  to  make  a  recess  in  War- 
wickshire, she  kept  her  court  for  three  weeks  in 
New- Place.  We  may  reasonably  suppose  it  then  the 
best  private  house  in  the  town  ;  and  her  majesty 
preferred  it  to  the  college,  which  was  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  Combe  family,  who  did  not  so 
strongly  favour  the  king's  party. 

How  much  our  author  employed  himself  in 
poetry,  after  his  retirement  from  the  stage,  does 
not  so  evidently  appear :  very  few  posthumous 
sketches  of  his  pen  have  been  recovered  to  ascer- 
tain that  point.  We  have  been  told,  indeed,  in 
print,4  but  not  till  very  lately,  that  two  large  chests 
full  of  this  great  man's  loose  papers  and  manu- 
scripts, in  the  hands  of  an  ignorant  baker  of  War- 
wick, (who  married  one  of  the  descendants  from 
our  Shakspeare,)  were  carelessly  scattered  and 
thrown  about  as  garret  lumber  and  litter,  to  the 
particular  knowledge  of  the  late  Sir  William  Bi- 
shop, till  they  were  all  consumed  in  the  general 
fire  and  destruction  of  that  town.  I  cannot  help 
being  a  little  apt  to  distrust  the  authority  of  this 
tradition,  because  his  wife  survived  him  seven 
years  ;  and,  as  his  favourite  daughter  Susanna  sur- 
vived her  twenty-six  years,  it  is  very  improbable 
they  should  suffer  such  a  treasure  to  be  removed, 
and  translated  into  a  remoter  branch  of  the  family, 
without  a  scrutiny  first  made  into  the  value  of  it. 


*  See  an  answer  to  Mr.  Pope's  Preface  to  Shakspeare,  by  a 
Strolling  Player,  8vo.  1/29,  P-  45.     Rkkd. 


200      MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE; 

This,  I  say,  inclines  me  to  distrust  the  authority 
of  the  relation :  but  notwithstanding  such  an  ap- 
parent improbability,  if  we  really  lost  such  a  trea- 
sure, by  whatever  fatality  or  caprice  of  fortune 
they  came  into  such  ignorant  and  neglected  hands, 
I  agree  with  the  relater,  the  misfortune  is  wholly 
irreparable. 

To  these  particulars,  which  regard  his  person 
and  private  life,  some  few  more  are  to  be  gleaned 
from  Mr.  Rowe's  Account  of  his  Life  and  Writings: 
let  us  now  take  a  short  view  of  him  in  his  publick 
capacity  as  a  writer:  and,  from  thence,  the  transi- 
tion will  be  easy  to  the  state  in  which  his  writings 
have  been  handed  down  to  us. 

No  age,  perhaps,  can  produce  an  author  more 
various  from  himself,  than  Shakspeare  has  been 
universally  acknowledged  to  be.  The  diversity  in 
style,  and  other  parts  of  composition,  so  obvious  in 
him,  is  as  variously  to  be  accounted  for.  His  edu- 
cation, we  find,  was  at  best  but  begun :  and  he 
started  early  into  a  science  from  the  force  of  ge- 
nius, unequally  assisted  by  acquired  improvements. 
His  fire,  spirit,  and  exuberance  of  imagination, 
gave  an  impetuosity  to  his  pen :  his  ideas  flowed 
from  him  in  a  stream  rapid,  but  not  turbulent; 
copious,  but  not  ever  overbearing  its  shores.  The 
ease  and  sweetness  of  his  temper  might  not  a  little 
contribute  to  his  facility  in  writing;  as  his  employ- 
ment as  a  player,  gave  him  an  advantage  and  habit 
of  fancying  himself  the  very  character  he  meant 
to  delineate.  He  used  the  helps  of  his  function  in 
forming  himself  to  create  and  express  that  sublime, 
which  other  actors  can  only  copy,  and  throw  out, 
in  action  and  graceful  attitude.  But,  Nullum  sine 
venid  placuit  ingenium,  says  Seneca.  The  genius, 
that  gives  us  the  greatest  pleasure, sometimes  stands 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.       201 

in  need  of  our  indulgence.  Whenever  this  happens 
with  regard  to  Shakspeare,  I  would  willingly  im- 
pute it  to  a  vice  of  his  times.  We  see  complaisance 
enough,  in  our  days,  paid  to  a  bad  taste.  So  that 
his  clinches,  false  ivit,  and  descending  beneath  him- 
self, may  have  proceeded  from  a  deference  paid  to 
the  then  reigning  barbarism. 

I  have  not  thought  it  out  of  my  province,  when- 
ever occasion  offered,  to  take  notice  of  some  of 
our  poet's  grand  touches  of  nature,  some,  that  do 
not  appear  sufficiently  such,  but  in  which  he  seems 
the  most  deeply  instructed;  and  to  which,  no  doubt, 
he  has  so  much  owed  that  happy  preservation  of 
his  characters,  for  which  he  is  justly  celebrated. 
Great  geniuses,  like  his,  naturally  unambitious,  are 
satisfied  to  conceal  their  arts  in  these  points.  It  is 
the  foible  of  your  worser  poets  to  make  a  parade 
and  ostentation  of  that  little  science  they  have ; 
and  to  throw  it  out  in  the  most  ambitious  colours. 
And  whenever  a  writer  of  this  class  shall  attempt 
to  copy  these  artful  concealments  of  our  author, 
and  shall  either  think  them  easy,  or  practised  by 
a  writer  for  his  ease,  he  will  soon  be  convinced  of 
his  mistake  by  the  difficulty  of  reaching  the  imita- 
tion of  them. 


"  Speret  idem,  sudet  multum,  frustraque  laboret, 
"  Ausus  idem: " 


Indeed  to  point  out  and  exclaim  upon  all  the 
beauties  of  Shakspeare,  as  they  come  singly  in  re- 
view, would  be  as  insipid,  as  endless ;  as  tedious, 
as  unnecessary:  but  the  explanation  of  those  beau- 
ties that  are  less  obvious  to  common  readers,  and 
whose  illustration  depends  on  the  rules  of  just  cri- 
ticism, and  an  exact  knowledge  of  human  life, 


£02      MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

should  deservedly  have  a  share  in  a  general  cri- 
tique upon  the  author.     But  to  pass  over  at  once 

to  another  subject : 

It  has  been  allowed  on  all  hands,  how  far  our 
author  was  indebted  to  nature ;  it  is  not  so  well 
agreed,  how  much  he  owed  to  languages  and  ac- 
quired learning?  The  decisions  on  this  subject  were 
certainly  set  on  foot  by  the  hint  from  Ben  Jonson, 
that  he  had  small  Latin,  and  less  Greek:  and  from 
this  tradition,  as  it  were,  Mr.  Rowe  has  thought 
fit  peremptorily  to  declare,  that,  "  It  is  without 
controversy,  he  had  no  knowledge  of  the  writings 
of  the  ancient  poets,  for  that  in  his  works  we  find 
no  traces  of  any  thing  which  looks  like  an  imita- 
tion of  the  ancients.  For  the  delicacy  of  his  taste 
(continues  he)  and  the  natural  bent  of  his  own 
great  genius  (equal,  if  not  superior,  to  some  of 
the  best  of  theirs,)  would  certainly  have  led  him 

'  It  has  been  allotved  &c]  On  this  subject  an  eminent  writer 
has  given  his  opinion  which  should  not  be  suppressed.  "  You 
will  ask  me,  perhaps,  now  I  am  on  this  subject,  how  it  hap- 
pened that  Shakspeare's  language  is  every  where  so  much  his 
own  as  to  secure  his  imitations,  if  they  were  such,  from  disco- 
ver)' ;  when  I  pronounce  with  such  assurance  of  those  of  our 
other  poets.  The  answer  is  given  for  me  in  the  preface  to  Mr. 
Theobald's  Shakspeare ;  though  the  observation,  I  think,  is  too 
good  to  come  from  that  critick.  It  is,  that  though  his  words, 
agreeably  to  the  state  of  the  English  tongue  at  that  time,  be  ge- 
nerally Latin,  his  phraseology  is  perfectly  English:  an  advantage 
he  owed  to  his  slender  acquaintance  with  the  Latin  idiom. 
"Whereas  the  other  writers  of  his  age  and  such  others  of  an  older 
date  as  were  likely  to  fall  into  his  hands,  had  not  only  the  most 
familiar  acquaintance  with  the  Latin  idiom,  but  affected  on  all 
occasions  to  make  use  of  it.  Hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  though 
he  might  draw  sometimes  from  the  Latin  (Ben  Jonsor.  you  know 
te  Is  us  He  had  less  Greek  J  and  the  learned  English  writers,  he 
takes  nothing  but  the  sentiments;  the  expression  comes  of  itself 
and  is  purely  English."  Bishop  Hurd's  Letter  to  Mr.  Mason, 
on  the  Marks  of  Imitation,  8vo.  1758.     Reed. 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.       203 

to  read  and  study  them  with  so  much  pleasure,  that 
some  of  their  fine  images  would  naturally  have  in- 
sinuated themselves  into,  and  been  mixed  with,  his 
own  writings :  and  so  his  not  copying,  at  least 
something  from  them,  may  be  an  argument  of  his 
never  having  read  them."  I  shall  leave  it  to  the 
determination  of  my  learned  readers,  from  the  nu- 
merous passages  which  I  have  occasionally  quoted 
in  my  notes,  in  which  our  poet  seems  closely  to 
have  imitated  the  classicks,  whether  Mr.  Rowe's 
assertion  be  so  absolutely  to  be  depended  on.  The 
result  of  the  controversy  must  certainly,  either 
way,  terminate  to  our  author's  honour  :  how  hap- 
pily he  could  imitate  them,  if  that  point  be  allowed; 
or  how  gloriously  he  could  think  like  them,  with- 
out owing  any  thing  to  imitation. 

Though  I  should  be  very  unwilling  to  allow 
Shakspeare  so  poor  a  scholar,  as  many  have  la- 
boured to  represent  him,  yet  I  shall  be  very  cauti- 
ous of  declaring  too  positively  on  the  other  side  of 
the  question;  that  is,  with  regard  to  my  opinion  of 
his  knowledge  in  the  dead  languages.  And  there- 
fore the  passages,  that  I  occasionally  quote  from 
the  classicks,  shall  not  be  urged  as  proofs  that  he 
knowingly  imitated  those  originals ;  but  brought  to 
show  how  happily  he  has  expressed  himself  upon  the 
same  topicks.  A  very  learned  critick  of  our  own 
nation  has  declared,  that  a  sameness  of  thought  and 
sameness  of  expression  too,  in  two  writers  of  a  dif- 
ferent age,can  hardly  happen,  without  a  violent  sus- 
picion of  the  latter  copying  from  his  predecessor. 
I  shall  not  therefore  run  any  great  risque  of  a  cen- 
sure, though  I  should  venture  to  hint,  that  the 
resemblances  in  thought  anil  expression  of  our  au- 
thor and  an  ancient  (which  we  should  allow  to  be 
imitation  in  the  one  whose  learning  was  not  ques- 


204      MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

tioned)  may  sometimes  take  its  rise  from  strength 
of  memory,  and  those  impressions  which  he  owed 
to  the  school.  And  if  we  may  allow  a  possibility  of 
this,  considering  that,  when  he  quitted  the  school, 
he  gave  into  his  father's  profession  and  way  of 
living,  and  had,  it  is  likely,  but  a  slender  library 
of  classical  learning;  and  considering  what  a  num- 
ber of  translations,  romances,  and  legends,  started 
about  his  time,  and  a  little  before  (most  of  which, 
it  is  very  evident,  he  read) ;  I  think  it  may  easily 
be  reconciled  why  he  rather  schemed  his  plots  and 
characters  from  these  more  latter  informations,  than 
went  back  to  those  fountains,  for  which  he  might 
entertain  a  sincere  veneration,  but  to  which  he 
could  not  have  so  ready  a  recourse. 

In  touching  on  another  part  of  his  learning,  as 
it  related  to  the  knowledge  of  history  and  books, 
I  shall  advance  something  that,  at  first  sight,  will 
very  much  wear  the  appearance  of  a  paradox.  For 
I  shall  find  it  no  hard  matter  to  prove,  that,  from 
the  grossest  blunders  in  history,  we  are  not  to  infer 
his  real  ignorance  of  it ;  nor  from  a  greater  use  of 
Latin  words,  than  ever  any  other  English  author 
used,  must  we  infer  his  intimate  acquaintance  with 
that  language. 

A  reader  of  taste  may  easily  observe,  that  though 
Shakspeare,  almost  in  every  scene  of  his  historical 
plays,  commits  the  grossest  offences  against  chro- 
nology, history,  and  ancient  politicks ;  yet  this 
was  not  through  ignorance,  as  is  generally  sup- 
posed, but  through  the  too  powerful  blaze  of  his 
imagination,  which,  when  once  raised,  made  all  ac- 
quired knowledge  vanish  and  disappear  before  it. 
But  this  licence  in  him,  as  I  have  said,  must  not  be 
imputed  to  ignorance,  since  as  often  we  may  find 
him,  when  occasion  serves,  reasoning  up  to  the 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.       205 

truth  of  history ;  and  throwing  out  sentiments  as 
justly  adapted  to  the  circumstances,  of  his  subject, 
as  to  the  dignity  of  his  characters,  or  dictates  of 
nature  in  general. 

Then  to  come  to  his  knowledge  of  the  Latin 
tongue,  it  is  certain,  there  is  a  surprizing  effusion 
of  Latin  words  made  English,  far  more  than  in  any 
one  English  author  I  have  seen ;  but  we  must  be 
cautious  to  imagine,  this  was  of  his  own  doing. 
For  the  English  tongue,  in  this  age,  began  ex- 
tremely to  suffer  by  an  inundation  of  Latin :  an< 
this,  to  be  sure,  was  occasioned  by  the  pedantry  c 
those  two  monarchs,  Elizabeth  and  James,  bot 
great  Latinists.     For  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  a 
if  both  the  court  and  schools,  equal  flatterers 
power,  should  adapt  themselves  to  the  royal  tast 

But  now  I  am  touching  on  the  question  (whic 
has  been  so  frequently  agitated,  yet  so  entirek 
undecided,)  of  his  learning  and  acquaintance  with 
the  languages;  an  additional  word  or  two  naturally 
falls  in  here  upon  the  genius  of  our  author,  as 
compared  with  that  of  Jonson  his  contemporary. 
They  are  confessedly  the  greatest  writers  our  na- 
tion could  ever  boast  of  in  the  drama.  The  first, 
we  say,  owed  all  to  his  prodigious  natural  genius; 
and  the  other  a  great  deal  to  his  art  and  learning. 
This,  if  attended  to,  will  explain  a  very  remark- 
able appearance  in  their  writings.  Besides  those 
wonderful  master-pieces  of  art  and  genius,  which 
each  has  given  us ;  they  are  the  authors  of  other 
works  very  unworthy  of  them  :  but  with  this  dif- 
ference, that  in  Jonson's  bad  pieces  we  do  not 
discover  one  single  trace  of  the  author  of  The  Fox 
and  Alchemist;  but,  in  the  wild  extravagant  notes 
of  Shakspeare,  you  every  now  and  then  encounter 
strains  that  recognize  the  divine  composer.     This 


S06       MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

difference  may  be  thus  accounted  for.  Jonson,  as 
we  said  before,  owing  all  his  excellence  to  his  art, 
by  which  he  sometimes  strained  himself  to  an  un- 
common pitch,  when  at  other  times  he  unbent  and 
played  with  his  subject,  having  nothing  then  to 
support  him,  it  is  no  wonder  that  he  wrote  so  far 
beneath  himself.  But  Shakspeare,  indebted  more 
largely  to  nature  than  the  other  to  acquired  talents, 
in  iiis  most  negligent  hours  could  never  so  totally 
divest  himself  of  his  genius,  but  that  it  would 
frequently  break  out  with  astonishing  force  and 
splendor.  v 

As  I  have  never  proposed  to  dilate  farther  on 
the  character  of  my  author,  than  was  necessary  to 
explain  the  nature  and  use  of  this  edition,  I  shall 
proceed  to  consider  him  as  a  genius  in  possession 
of  an  everlasting  name.  And  how  great  that 
merit  must  be,  which  could  gain  it  against  all  the 
disadvantages  of  the  horrid  condition  in  which  he 
had  hitherto  appeared !  Had  Homer,  or  any  other 
admired  author,  first  started  into  publick  so  maim- 
ed and  deformed,  we  cannot  determine  whether 
they  had  not  sunk  for  ever  under  the  ignominy 
of  such  an  ill  appearance.  The  mangled  condition 
of  Shakspeare  has  been  acknowledged  by  Mr. 
Rowe,  who  published  him  indeed,  but  neither 
corrected  his  text,  nor  collated  the  old  copies. 
This  gentleman  had  abilities,  and  sufficient  know- 
ledge of  his  author,  had  but  his  industry  been 
equal  to  his  talents.  The  same  mangled  condition 
has  been  acknowledged  too  by  Mr.  Pope,  who 

{mblished  him  likewise,  pretended  to  have  col- 
ated  the  old  copies,  and  yet  seldom  has  corrected 
the  text  but  to  its  injury.  I  congratulate  with 
the  manes  of  our  poet,  that  this  gentleman  has 
been  sparing  in  indulging  his  private  sense,  as  he 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.       207 

phrases  it;  for  he,  who  tampers  with  an  author, 
whom  he  does  not  understand,  must  do  it  at  the 
expence  of  his  subject.  I  have  made  it  evident 
throughout  my  remarks,  that  he  has  frequently  in- 
flicted a  wound  where  he  intended  a  cure.  He  has 
acted  with  regard  to  our  author,  as  an  editor,  whom 
Lipsius  mentions,  did  with  regard  to  Martial; 
Inventus  est  nescio  quis  Popa,  qui  non  vitia  ejus,  sed 
ipsum  excidit.  He  has  attacked  him  like  an  un- 
handy slaughterman;  and  not  lopped  off  the  errors, 
but  the  poet. 

When  this  is  found  to  be  fact,  how  absurd  must 
appear  the  praises  of  such  an  editor  !  It  seems  a 
moot  point,  whether  Mr.  Pope  has  done  most  in- 
jury to  Shakspeare,  as  his  editor  and  encomiast; 
or  Mr.  Rymer  done  him  service,  as  his  rival  and 
censurer.  They  have  both  shown  themselves  in  an 
equal  impuissance  of  suspecting  or  amending  the 
corrupted  passages:  and  though  it  be  neither  pru- 
dence to  censure  or  commend  what  one  does  not 
understand ;  yet  if  a  man  must  do  one  when  he 
plays  the  critick,  the  latter  is  the  more  ridiculous 
office ;  and  by  that  Shakspeare  suffers  most.  For 
the  natural  veneration  which  we  have  for  him 
makes  us  apt  to  swallow  whatever  is  given  us  as 
his,  and  set  off  with  encomiums ;  and  hence  we 
quit  all  suspicions  of  depravity :  on  the  contrary, 
the  censure  of  so  divine  an  author  sets  us  upon  his 
defence ;  and  this  produces  an  exact  scrutiny  and 
examination,  which  ends  in  finding  out  and  dis- 
criminating the  true  from  the  spurious. 

It  is  not  with  any  secret  pleasure  that  I  so  fre- 
quently animadvert  on  Mr.  rope  as  a  critick,  but 
there  are  provocations,  which  a  man  can  never  quite 
forget.  His  libels  have  been  thrown  out  with  so 
much  inveteracy,  that,  not  to  dispute  whether  they 


208      MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

should  come  from  a  christian,  they  leave  it  a  ques- 
tion whether  they  could  come  from  a  man.  I  should 
be  loth  to  doubt,  as  Quintus  Serenus  did  in  a  like 
case : 

"  Sive  homo,  seu  similis  turpissima  bestia  nobis 
"  Vulnera  dente  dedit. " 

The  indignation,  perhaps,  for  being  represented 
a  blockhead,  may  be  as  strong  in  us,  as  it  is  in  the 
ladies  for  a  reflection  on  their  beauties.  It  is  cer- 
tain, I  am  indebted  to  him  for  some  flagrant  ci- 
vilities ;  and  I  shall  willingly  devote  a  part  of  my 
life  to  the  honest  endeavour  of  quitting  scores: 
with  this  exception,  however,  that  I  will  not  return 
those  civilities  in  his  peculiar  strain,  but  confine 
myself,  at  least,  to  the  limits  of  common  decency. 
I  shall  ever  think  it  better  to  want  wit,  than  to 
want  humanity:  and  impartial  posterity  may,  per- 
haps, be  of  my  opinion. 

But  to  return  to  my  subject,  which  now  calls 
upon  me  to  enquire  into  those  causes,  to  which  the 
depravations  of  my  author  originally  may  be  as- 
signed. We  are  to  consider  him  as  a  writer,  of 
whom  no  authentick  manuscript  was  left  extant ; 
as  a  writer,  whose  pieces  were  dispersedly  per- 
formed on  the  several  stages  then  in  being.  And 
it  was  the  custom  of  those  days  for  the  poets  to 
take  a  price  of  the  players  for  the  pieces  they  from 
time  to  time  furnished;  and  thereupon  it  was  sup- 
posed they  had  no  farther  right  to  print  them  with- 
out the  consent  of  the  players.  As  it  was  the  interest 
of  the  companies  to  keep  their  plays  unpublished, 
when  any  one  succeeded,  there  was  a  contest  be- 
twixt the  curiosity  of  the  town,  who  demanded  to 
see  it  in  print,  and  the  policy  of  the  stagers,  who 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.      209 

wished  to  secrete  it  within  their  own  walls.  Hence 
many  pieces  were  taken  down  in  short-hand,  and 
imperfectly  copied  by  ear  from  a  representation ; 
others  were  printed  from  piecemeal  parts  surrep- 
titiously obtained  from  the  theatres,  uncorrect,  and 
without  the  poet's  knowledge.  To  some  of  these 
causes  we  owe  the  train  of  blemishes,  that  deform 
those  pieces  which  stole  singly  into  the  world  in 
our  author's  life-time. 

There  are  still  other  reasons,  which  may  be 
supposed  to  have  affected  the  whole  set.  When 
the  players  took  upon  them  to  publish  his  works 
entire,  every  theatre  was  ransacked  to  supply  the 
copy;  and  /wrfc  collected,  which  had  gone  through 
as  many  changes  as  performers,  either  from  mu- 
tilations or  additions  made  to  them.  Hence  we 
derive  many  chasms  and  incoherences  in  the  sense 
and  matter.  Scenes  were  frequently  transposed, 
and  shuffled  out  of  their  true  place,  to  humour  the 
caprice,  or  supposed  convenience,  of  some  par- 
ticular actor.  Hence  much  confusion  and  impro- 
priety has  attended  and  embarrassed  the  business 
and  fable.  To  these  obvious  causes  of  corruption 
it  must  be  added,  that  our  author  has  lain  under 
the  disadvantage  of  having  his  errors  propagated 
and  multiplied  by  time :  because,  for  near  a  cen- 
tury, his  works  were  published  from  the  faulty 
copies,  without  the  assistance  of  any  intelligent 
editor:  which  has  been  the  case  likewise  of  many 
a  classick  writer. 

The  nature  of  any  distemper  once  found  has 
generally  been  the  immediate  step  to  a  cure.  Shak- 
speare's  case  has  in  a  great  measure  resembled  that 
of  a  corrupt  classick ;  and,  consequently,  the  me- 
thod of  cure  was  likewise  to  bear  a  resemblance. 
By  what  means,  and  with  what  success,  this  cure 

vol.  i.  p 


210      MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

has  been  effected  on  ancient  writers,  is  too  well 
known,  and  needs  no  formal  illustration.  The  re- 
putation, consequent  on  tasks  of  that  nature,  in- 
vited me  to  attempt  the  method  here ;  with  this 
view,  the  hopes  of  restoring  to  the  publick  their 
greatest  poet  in  his  original  purity,  after  having 
so  long  lain  in  a  condition  that  was  a  disgrace  to 
common  sense.  To  this  end  I  have  ventured  on  a 
labour,  that  is  the  first  assay  of  the  kind  on  any 
modern  author  whatsoever.  For  the  late  edition  of 
Milton,  by  the  learned  Dr.Bentley,  is,  in  the  main, 
a  performance  of  another  species.  It  is  plain,  it 
was  the  intention  of  that  great  man  rather  to  cor- 
rect and  pare  off  the  excrescencies  of  the  Paradise 
Lost,  in  the  manner  that  Tucca  and  Varius  were 
employed  to  criticise  the  JEneis  of  Virgil,  than  to 
restore  corrupted  passages.  Hence,  therefore,  may 
be  seen  either  thein  iquity  or  ignorance  of  his 
censurers,  who,  from  some  expressions  would  make 
us  believe  the  doctor  every  where  gives  us  his  cor- 
rections as  the  original  text  of  the  author;  whereas 
the  chief  turn  of  his  criticism  is  plainly  to  show 
the  world,  that,  if  Milton  did  not  write  as  he  would 
have  him,  he  ought  to  have  wrote  so. 

I  thought  proper  to  premise  this  observation  to 
the  readers,  as  it  will  show  that  the  critick  on 
Shakspeare  is  of  a  quite  different  kind.  His  genuine 
text  is  for  the  most  part  religiously  adhered  to, 
and  the  numerous  faults  and  blemishes,  purely 
his  own,  are  left  as  they  were  found.  Nothing 
is  altered  but  what  by  the  clearest  reasoning  can 
be  proved  a  corruption  of  the  true  text ;  and  the 
alteration,  a  real  restoration  of  the  genuine  read- 
ing. Nay,  so  strictly  have  I  strove  to  give  the  true 
reading,  though  sometimes  not  to  the  advantage 
of  my  author,  that  I  have  been  ridiculously  ridi- 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.      9 1 1 

culed  for  it  by  those,  who  either  were  iniquitously 
for  turning  every  thing  to  my  disadvantage;  or 
else  were  totally  ignorant  of  the  true  duty  of  an 
editor. 

The  science  of  criticism,  as  far  as  it  affects  an 
editor,  seems  to  be  reduced  to  these  three  classes; 
the  emendation  of  corrupt  passages;  the  explana- 
tion of  obscure  and  difficult  ones;  and  an  enquiry 
into  the  beauties  and  defects  of  composition.  This 
work  is  principally  confined  to  the  two  former 
parts:  though  there  are  some  specimens  interspers- 
ed of  the  latter  kind,  as  several  of  the  emendations 
were  best  supported,  and  several  of  the  difficulties 
best  explained,  by  taking  notice  of  the  beauties  and 
defects  of  the  composition  peculiar  to  this  immor- 
tal poet.  But  this  was  but  occasional,  and  for  the 
sake  only  of  perfecting  the  two  other  parts,  which 
were  the  proper  objects  of  the  editor's  labour.  The 
third  lies  open  for  every  willing  undertaker:  and  I 
shall  be  pleased  to  see  it  the  employment  of  a  mas- 
terly pen. 

It  must  necessarily  happen,  as  I  have  formerly 
observed,  that  where  the  assistance  of  manuscripts 
is  wanting  to  set  an  author's  meaning  right,  and 
rescue  him  from  those  errors  which  have  been 
transmitted  down  through  a  series  of  incorrect 
editions,  and  a  long  intervention  of  time,  many 
passages  must  be  desperate,  and  past  a  cure ;  and 
their  true  sense  irretrievable  either  to  care  or  the 
sagacity  of  conjecture.  But  is  there  any  reason 
therefore  to  say,  that  because  all  cannot  be  re- 
trieved, all  ought  to  be  left  desperate  ?  We  should 
show  very  little  honesty,  or  wisdom,  to  play  the 
tyrants  with  an  author's  text ;  to  raze,  alter,  inno- 
vate, and  overturn,  at  all  adventures,  and  to  the 
utter  detriment  of  his  sense  and  meaning  :  but  to 

p  2 


212      MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

be  so  very  reserved  and  cautious,  as  to  interpose 
no  relief  or  conjecture,  where  it  manifestly  labours 
and  cries  out  for  assistance,  seems,  on  the  other 
hand,  an  indolent  absurdity. 

As  there  are  very  few  pages  in  Shakspeare,  upon 
which  some  suspicions  of  depravity  do  not  reason- 
ably arise;  I  have  thought  it  my  duty  in  the  first 
place,  by  a  diligent  and  laborious  collation,  to  take 
in  the  assistances  of  all  the  older  copies. 

In  his  historical  plays,  whenever  our  English 
chronicles,  and  in  his  tragedies,  when  Greek  or 
Roman  story  could  give  any  light,  no  pains  have 
been  omitted  to  set  passages  right,  by  comparing 
my  author  with  his  originals ;  for,  as  I  have  fre- 
quently observed,  he  was  a  close  and  accurate  co- 
pier wherever  his  fable  was  founded  on  history. 

Wherever  the  author's  sense  is  clear  and  dis- 
coverable, (though,  perchance,  low  and  trivial,) 
I  have  not  by  any  innovation  tampered  with  his 
text,  out  of  an  ostentation  of  endeavouring  to 
make  him  speak  better  than  the  old  copies  have 
done. 

Where,  through  all  the  former  editions,  a  pas- 
sage has  laboured  under  flat  nonsense  and  invinci- 
ble darkness,  if,  by  the  addition  or  alteration  of  a 
letter  or  two,  or  a  transposition  in  the  pointing,  I 
have  restored  to  him  both  sense  and  sentiment ; 
such  corrections,  I  am  persuaded,  will  need  no 
indulgence. 

And  whenever  I  have  taken  a  greater  latitude 
and  liberty  in  amending,  I  have  constantly  endea- 
voured to  support  my  corrections  and  conjectures 
by  parallel  passages  and  authorities  from  himself, 
the  surest  means  of  expounding  any  author  what- 
soever. Cette  vote  d*  interpreter  un  autheur  par  luu 
mime  est  plus  sure  que  tous  les  commentaires,  says  a 
very  learned  French  critick. 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.      213 

As  to  my  notes,  (from  which  the  common  and 
learned  readers  of  our  author,  I  hope,  will  derive 
some  satisfaction,)  I  have  endeavoured  to  give  them 
a  variety  in  some  proportion  to  their  number. 
Wherever  I  have  ventured  at  an  emendation,  a  note 
is  constantly  subjoined  to  justify  and  assert  the  rea- 
son of  it.  Where  I  only  offer  a  conjecture,  and  do 
not  disturb  the  text,  I  fairly  set  forth  my  grounds 
for  such  conjecture,  and  submit  it  to  judgment. 
Some  remarks  are  spent  in  explaining  passages, 
where  the  wit  or  satire  depends  on  an  obscure  point 
of  history:  others,  where  allusions  are  to  divinity, 
philosophy,  or  other  branches  of  science.  Some 
are  added,  to  show  where  there  is  a  suspicion  of 
our  author  having  borrowed  from  the  ancients: 
others,  to  show  where  he  is  rallying  his  contem- 
poraries ;  or  where  he  himself  is  rallied  by  them. 
And  some  are  necessarily  thrown  in,  to  explain  an 
obscure  and  obsolete  term,  phrase,  or  idea.  I  once 
intended  to  have  added  a  complete  and  copious 
glossary;  but  as  I  have  been  importuned,  and  am 
prepared  to  give  a  correct  edition  of  our  author's 
Poems,  (in  which  many  terms  occur  which  are  not 
to  be  met  with  in  his  Plays,)  I  thought  a  glossary  to 
all  Shakspeare's  works  more  proper  to  attend  that 
volume. 

In  reforming  an  infinite  number  of  passages  in 
the  pointing,  where  the  sense  was  before  quite  lost, 
I  have  frequently  subjoined  notes  to  show  the  de- 
praved, and  to  prove  the  reformed,  pointing :  a 
part  of  labour  in  this  work  which  I  could  very 
willingly  have  spared  myself.  May  it  not  be  ob- 
jected, why  then  have  you  burdened  us  with  these 
notes  ?  The  answer  is  obvious,  and,  if  I  mistake 
not,  very  material.  Without  such  notes,  these 
passages  in  subsequent  editions  would  be  liable, 


214      MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

through  the  ignorance  of  printers  and  correctors, 
to  fall  into  the  old  confusion :  whereas,  a  note  on 
every  one  hinders  all  possible  return  to  depravity: 
and  for  ever  secures  them  in  a  state  of  purity  and 
integrity  not  to  be  lost  or  forfeited. 

Again,  as  some  notes  have  been  necessary  to 
point  out  the  detection  of  the  corrupted  text,  and 
establish  the  restoration  of  the  genuine  reading ; 
some  others  have  been  as  necessary  for  the  expla- 
nation of  passages  obscure  and  difficult.  To  un- 
derstand the  necessity  and  use  of  this  part  of  my 
task,  some  particulars  of  my  author's  character  are 
previously  to  be  explained.  There  are  obscurities 
in  him,  which  are  common  to  him  with  all  poets  of 
the  same  species;  there  are  others,  the  issue  of  the 
times  he  lived  in  ;  and  there  are  others,  again, 
peculiar  to  himself.  The  nature  of  comick  poetry 
being  entirely  satirical,  it  busies  itself  more  in  ex- 
posing what  we  call  caprice  and  humour,  than  vices 
cognizable  to  the  laws.  The  English,  from  the 
happiness  of  a  free  constitution,  and  a  turn  of 
mind  peculiarly  speculative  and  inquisitive,  are  ob- 
served to  produce  more  humourists,  and  a  greater 
variety  of  original  characters,  than  any  other  people 
whatsoever:  and  these  owing  their  immediate  birth 
to  the  peculiar  genius  of  each  age,  an  infinite  num- 
ber of  things  alluded  to,  glanced  at,  and  exposed, 
must  needs  become  obscure,  as  the  characters  them- 
selves are  antiquated  and  disused.  An  editor  there- 
fore should  be  well  versed  in  the  history  and  man- 
ners of  his  author's  age,  if  he  aims  at  doing  him  a 
service  in  this  respect. 

Besides,  mt  lying  mostly  in  the  assemblage  of 
ideas,  and  in  putting  those  together  with  quickness 
and  variety,  wherein  can  be  found  any  resemblance, 
or  congruity,  to  make  up  pleasant  pictures,  and 


MR.  THEOBALDS  PREFACE.      215 

agreeable  visions  in  the  fancy;  the  writer,  who  aims 
at  wit,  must  of  course  range  far  and  wide  for  ma- 
terials.    Now  the  age  in  which  Shakspeare  lived, 
having,  above  all  others,  a  wonderful  affection  to 
appear  learned,  they  declined  vulgar  images,  such 
as  are  immediately  fetched  from  nature,  and  ranged 
through  the  circle  of  the  sciences,  to  fetch  their 
ideas  from  thence.  But  as  the  resemblances  of  such 
ideas  to  the  subject  must  necessarily  lie  very  much 
out  of  the  common  way,  and  every  piece  of  wit 
appear  a  riddle  to  the  vulgar ;  this,  that  should 
have  taught  them  the  forced,  quaint,  unnatural 
tract  they  were  in,  (and  induce  them  to  follow  a 
more  natural  one,)  was  the  very  thing  that  kept 
them  attached  to  it.     The  ostentatious  affectation 
of  abstruse  learning,  peculiar  to  that  time,  the  love 
that  men  naturally  have  to  every  thing  that  looks 
like  mystery,  fixed  them  down  to  the  habit  of  ob- 
scurity. Thus  became  the  poetry  of  Donne  (though 
the  wittiest  man  of  that  age,)  nothing  but  a  con- 
tinued heap  of  riddles.     And  our  Shakspeare,  with 
all  his  easy  nature  about  him,  for  want  of  the 
knowledge  of  the  true  rules  of  art,  falls  frequently 
into  this  vicious  manner. 

The  third  species  of  obscurities  which  deform  our 
author,  as  the  effects  of  his  own  genius  and  cha- 
racter, are  those  that  proceed  from  his  peculiar 
manner  of  thinking,  and  as  peculiar  a  manner  of 
clothing  those  thoughts.  With  regard  to  his  think- 
ing, it  is  certain,  that  he  had  a  general  knowledge 
of  all  the  sciences:  but  his  acquaintance  was  rather 
that  of  a  traveller  than  a  native.  Nothing  in  phi- 
losophy was  unknown  to  him  ;  but  every  thing  in 
it  had  the  grace  and  force  of  novelty.  And  as 
novelty  is  one  main  source  of  admiration,  we  are 
not  to  wonder  that  he  has  perpetual  allusions  to  the 


216      MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

most  recondite  parts  of  the  sciences  :  and  this  was 
done  not  so  much  out  of  affectation,  as  the  effect 
of  admiration  begot  by  novelty.  Then,  as  to  his 
style  and  diction,  we  may  much  more  justly  apply 
to  Shakspeare,  what  a  celebrated  writer  said  of 
Milton  :  Our  language  sunk  under  him,  and  was 
unequal  to  that  greatness  of  soul  which  furnished 
him  with  such  glorious  conceptions.  He  therefore 
frequently  uses  old  words,  to  give  his  diction  an 
air  of  solemnity;  as  he  coins  others,  to  express  the 
novelty  and  variety  of  his  ideas. 

Upon  every  distinct  species  of  these  obscurities,  I 
have  thought  it  my  province  to  employ  a  note  for 
the  service  of  my  author,  and  the  entertainment  of 
my  readers.  A  few  transient  remarks  too  I  have 
not  scrupled  to  intermix,  upon  the  poet's  negli- 
gences and  omissions  in  point  of  art';  but  I  have  done 
it  always  in  such  a  manner,  as  will  testify  my  de- 
ference and  veneration  for  the  immortal  author. 
Some  censurers  of  Shakspeare,  and  particularly 
Mr.  Rymer,  have  taught  me  to  distinguish  betwixt 
the  railer  and  critick.  The  outrage  of  his  quota- 
tions is  so  remarkably  violent,  so  pushed  beyond 
all  bounds  of  decency  and  sober  reasoning,  that  it 
quite  carries  over  the  mark  at  which  it  was  levelled. 
Extravagant  abuse  throws  off  the  edge  of  the  in- 
tended disparagement,  and  turns  the  madman's 
weapon  into  his  own  bosom.  In  short,  as  to  Ry- 
mer, this  is  my  opinion  of  him  from  his  criticisms 
on  the  tragedies  of  the  last  age.  He  writes  with 
great  vivacity,  and  appears  to  have  been  a  scholar: 
but  as  for  his  knowledge  of  the  art  of  poetry,  I 
cannot  perceive  it  was  any  deeper  than  his  ac- 
quaintance with  Bossu  and  Dacier,  from  whom  he 
has  transcribed  many  of  his  best  reflections.  The 
late  Mr.  Gildon  was  one  attached  to  Rymer  by  a 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.       217 

similar  way  of  thinking  and  studies.  They  were 
both  of  that  species  of  criticks  who  are  desirous 
of  displaying  their  powers  rather  in  finding  faults, 
than  in  consulting  the  improvement  of  the  world ; 
the  hypercritical  part  of  the  science  of  criticism, 

I  had  not  mentioned  the  modest  liberty  I  have 
here  and  there  taken  of  animadverting  on  my  au- 
thor, but  that  I  was  willing  to  obviate  in  time  the 
splenetick  exaggerations  of  my  adversaries  on  this 
head.  From  past  experiments  I  have  reason  to  be 
conscious,  in  what  light  this  attempt  may  be 
placed :  and  that  what  I  call  a  modest  liberty  will,  by 
a  little  of  their  dexterity,  be  inverted  into  down- 
right impudence.  From  a  hundred  mean  and  dis- 
honest artifices  employed  to  discredit  this  edition, 
and  to  cry  down  its  editor,  I  have  all  the  grounds 
in  nature  to  beware  of  attacks.  But  though  the 
malice  of  wit,  joined  to  the  smoothness  of  versifica- 
tion, may  furnish  some  ridicule;  fact,  I  hope, will  be 
able  to  stand  its  ground  against  banter  and  gaiety. 

It  has  been  my  fate,  it  seems,  as  I  thought  it  my 
duty,  to  discover  some  anachronisms  in  our  author; 
which  might  have  slept  in  obscurity  but  for  this 
Restorer,  as  Mr.  Pope  is  pleased  affectionately  to 
style  me :  as  for  instance,  where  Aristotle  is  men- 
tioned by  Hector  in  Troilus  and  Cressida;  and  Ga- 
len, Cato,  and  Alexander  the  Great,  in  Coriolanus. 
These,  in  Mr.  Pope's  opinion,  are  blunders,  which 
the  illiteracy  of  the  first  publishers  of  his  works 
has  fathered  upon  the  poet's  memory:  it  not  being 
at  all  credible,  that  these  could  be  the  errors  of  any 
man  who  had  the  least  tincture  of  a  school,  or  the  least 
conversation  with  such  as  had.  But  I  have  suffi- 
ciently proved,  in  the  course  of  my  notes,  that  such 
anachronisms  were  the  effect  of  poetick  licence, 
rather  than  of  ignorance  in  our  poet.     And  if  I 


218       MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

may  be  permitted  to  ask  a  modest  question  by  the 
way,  why  may  not  I  restore  an  anachronism  really 
made  by  our  author,  as  well  as  Mr.  Pope  take  the 
privilege  to  fix  others  upon  him,  which  he  never 
had  it  in  his  head  to  make ;  as  I  may  venture  to 
affirm  he  had  not,  in  the  instance  of  Sir  Francis 
Drake,  to  which  I  have  spoke  in  the  proper  place? 
But  who  shall  dare  make  any  words  about  this 
freedom  of  Mr.  Pope's  towards  Shakspeare,  if  it 
can  be  proved,  that,  in  his  fits  of  criticism,  he 
makes  no  more  ceremony  with  good  Homer  him- 
self? To  try,  then,  a  criticism  of  his  own  ad- 
vancing :  in  the  8th  Book  of  The  Odyssey,  where 
Demodocus  sings  the  episode  of  the  loves  of  Mars 
and  Venus ;  and  that,  upon  their  being  taken  in 
the  net  by  Vulcan, 

The  god  of  arms 


"  Must  pay  the  penalty  for  lawless  charms ;" 

Mr.  Pope  is  so  kind  gravely  to  inform  us,  "  That 
Homer  in  this,  as  in  many  other  places,  seems  to 
allude  to  the  laws  of  Athens,  where  death  was  the 
punishment  of  adultery."  But  how  is  this  signifi- 
cant observation  made  out?  Why,  who  can  pos- 
sibly object  any  thing  to  the  contrary  ? Does 

not  Pausanias  relate  that  Draco ,  the  lawgiver  to  the 
Athenians,  granted  impunity  to  any  person  that  took 
revenge  upon  an  adulterer  ?  And  ivas  it  not  also  the 
institution  of  Solon,  that  if  any  one  took  an  adulterer 
in  the  fact,  he  might  use  him  as  he  pleased?  These 
things  are  very  true :  and  to  see  what  a  good  me- 
mory, and  sound  judgment  in  conjunction,  can 
achieve !  though  Homer's  date  is  not  determined 
down  to  a  single  year,  yet  it  is  pretty  generally 
agreed  that  he  lived  above  three  hundred  years  be- 
fore Draco  and  Solon :  and  that,  it  seems,  has  made 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.      219 

him  seem  to  allude  to  the  very  laws,  which  these 
two  legislators  propounded  above  three  hundred 
years  after.  If  this  inference  be  not  something 
like  an  anachronism  or  prolepsis,  I  will  look  once 
more  into  my  lexicons  for  the  true  meaning  of  the 
words.  It  appears  to  me,  that  somebody  besides 
Mars  and  Venus  has  been  caught  in  a  net  by  this 
episode :  and  I  could  call  in  other  instances,  to 
confirm  what  treacherous  tackle  this  net-work  is, 
if  not  cautiously  handled. 

How  just,  notwithstanding,  I  have  been  in  de- 
tecting the  anachronisms  of  my  author,  and  in  de- 
fending him  for  the  use  of  them,  our  late  editor 
seems  to  think,  they  should  rather  have  slept  in 
obscurity:  and  the  having  discovered  them  is 
sneered  at,  as  a  sort  of  wrong-headed  sagacity. 

The  numerous  corrections  which  I  have  made 
of  the  poet's  text  in  my  Shakspeare  Restored,  and 
which  the  publick  have  been  so  kind  to  think  well 
of,  are,  in  the  appendix  of  Mr.  Pope's  last  edition, 
slightingly  called  various  readings,  guesses,  &c. 
He  confesses  to  have  inserted  as  many  of  them  as 
he  judged  of  any  the  least  advantage  to  the  poet; 
but  says,  that  the  whole  amounted  to  about  twenty 
five  words  :  and  pretends  to  have  annexed  a  com- 
plete list  of  the  rest,  which  were  not  worth  his 
embracing.  Whoever  has  read  my  book  will,  at 
one  glance,  see  how  in  both  these  points  veracity 
is  strained,  so  an  injury  might  be  done.  Malus, 
etsi  obesae  non  potcy  tamen  cogitat. 

Another  expedient  to  make  my  work  appear  of 
a  trifling  nature,  has  been  an  attempt  to  depreciate 
literal  criticism.  To  this  end,  and  to  pay  a  servile 
compliment  to  Mr.  Pope,  an  anonymous  writer6  has, 

a  David  Mallet.  See  his  poem  Of  Verbal  Criticism,  Vol.  I. 
of  his  works,  limo.  1759.     Reed. 


220      MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE. 

like  a  Scotch  pedlar  in  wit,  unbraced  his  pack  on 
the  subject.  But,  that  his  virulence  might  not 
seem  to  be  levelled  singly  at  me,  he  has  done  me 
the  honour  to  join  Dr.  Bentley  in  the  libel.  I  was 
in  hopes  we  should  have  been  both  abused  with 
smartness  of  satire  at  least,  though  not  with  soli- 
dity of  argument ;  that  it  might  have  been  worth 
some  reply  in  defence  of  the  science  attacked.  But 
I  may  fairly  say  of  this  author,  as  Falstaff  does  of 
Poins : — Hang  him,  baboon !  his  wit  is  as  thick  as 
Tewksbury  mustard  ;  there  is  no  more  conceit  in  him, 
than  is  in  a  Mallet.  If  it  be  not  a  prophanation 
to  set  the  opinion  of  the  divine  Longinus  against 
such  a  scribbler,  he  tells  us  expressly,  "  That 
to  make  a  judgment  upon  words  (and  writings)  is 
the  most  consummate  fruit  of  much  experience." 

Whenever  words  are  depraved,  the  sense  of  course 
must  be  corrupted ;  and  thence  the  reader  is  be- 
trayed into  a  false  meaning. 

If  the  Latin  and  Greek  languages  have  received 
the  greatest  advantages  imaginable  from  the  la- 
bours of  the  editors  and  criticks  of  the  two  last  ages, 
by  whose  aid  and  assistance  the  grammarians  have 
been  enabled  to  write  infinitely  better  in  that  art 
than  even  the  preceding  grammarians,  who  wrote 
when  those  tongues  flourished  as  living  languages; 
I  should  account  it  a  peculiar  happiness,  that,  by 
the  faint  essay  I  have  made  in  this  work,  a  path 
might  be  chalked  out  for  abler  hands,  by  which  to 
derive  the  same  advantages  to  our  own  tongue ;  a 
tongue,  which,  though  it  wants  none  of  the  funda- 
mental qualities  of  an  universal  language,  yet,  as  a 
noble  writer  says,  lisps  and  stammers  as  in  its  cradle; 
and  has  produced  little  more  towards  its  polishing 
than  complaints  of  its  barbarity. 


MR.  THEOBALD'S  PREFACE.       221 

Having  now  run  through  all  those  points,  which 
I  intended  should  make  any  part  of  this  disserta- 
tion, and  having  in  my  former  edition  made  publick 
acknowledgments  of  the  assistances  lent  me,  I  shall 
conclude  with  a  brief  account  of  the  methods  taken 
in  this. 

It  was  thought  proper,  in  order  to  reduce  the 
bulk  and  price  of  the  impression,  that  the  notes, 
wherever  they  would  admit  of  it,  might  be 
abridged:  for  which  reason  I  have  curtailed  a 
great  quantity  of  such,  in  which  explanations  were 
too  prolix,  or  authorities  in  support  of  an  emend- 
ation too  numerous :  and  many  I  have  entirely  ex- 
punged, which  were  judged  rather  verbose  and 
declamatory  (and  so  notes  merely  of  ostentation) 
than  necessary  or  instructive. 

The  few  literal  errors  which  had  escaped  notice 
for  want  of  revisals,  in  the  former  edition,  are 
here  reformed ;  and  the  pointing  of  innumerable 
passages  is  regulated,  with  all  the  accuracy  I  am 
capable  of. 

I  shall  decline  making  any  farther  declaration 
of  the  pains  I  have  taken  upon  my  author,  because 
it  was  my  duty,  as  his  editor,  to  publish  him  with 
my  best  care  and  judgment ;  and  because  I  am 
sensible,  all  such  declarations  are  construed  to 
be  laying  a  sort  of  debt  on  the  publick.  As  the 
former  edition  has  been  received  with  mucli  in- 
dulgence, I  ought  to  make  my  acknowledgments 
to  the  town  for  their  favourable  opinion  of  it;  and 
I  shall  always  be  proud  to  think  that  encourage- 
ment the  best  payment  I  can  hope  to  receive  from 
my  poor  studies. 


SIR  THOMAS  HANMER'S 

PREFACE. 


WHAT  the  publick  is  here  to  expect  is  a  true 
and  correct  edition  of  Shakspeare's  works,  cleared 
from  the  corruptions  with  which  they  have  hitherto 
abounded.  One  of  the  great  admirers  of  this  in- 
comparable author  hath  made  it  the  amusement 
of  his  leisure  hours  for  many  years  past  to  look 
over  his  writings  with  a  careful  eye,  to  note  the 
obscurities  and  absurdities  introduced  into  the 
text,  and  according  to  the  best  of  his  judgment 
to  restore  the  genuine  sense  and  purity  of  it.  In 
this  he  proposed  nothing  to  himself,  but  his  private 
satisfaction  in  making  his  own  copy  as  perfect  as 
he  could:  but,  as  the  emendations  multiplied  upon 
his  hands,  other  gentlemen,  equally  fond  of  the 
author,  desired  to  see  them,  and  some  were  so  kind 
as  to  give  their  assistance,  by  communicating  their 
observations  and  conjectures  upon  difficult  pas- 
sages which  had  occurred  to  them.  Thus  by  de- 
grees the  work  growing  more  considerable  than 
was  at  first  expected,  they  who  had  the  opportunity 
of  looking  into  it,  too  partial  perhaps  in  their 
judgment,  thought  it  worth  being  made  publick ; 
and  he,  who  hath  with  difficulty  yielded  to  their 
persuasions,  is  far  from  desiring  to  reflect  upon 
the  late  editors  for  the  omissions  and  defects 
which  they  left  to  be  supplied  by  others  who 


SIR  T.  HANMER'S  PREFACE.       223 

should  follow  them  in  the  same  province.  On  the 
contrary,  he  thinks  the  world  much  obliged  to 
them  for  the  progress  they  made  in  weeding  out  so 
great  a  number  of  blunders  and  mistakes  as  they 
have  done ;  and  probably  he  who  hath  carried  on 
the  work  might  never  have  thought  of  such  an  un- 
dertaking, if  he  had  not  found  a  considerable  part 
so  done  to  his  hands. 

From  what  causes  it  proceeded  that  the  works 
of  this  author,  in  the  first  publication  of  them,  were 
more  injured  and  abused  than  perhaps  any  that 
ever  passed  the  press,  hath  been  sufficiently  ex- 
plained in  the  preface  to  Mr.  Pope's  edition,  which 
is  here  subjoined,  and  there  needs  no  more  to  be 
said  upon  that  subject.  This  only  the  reader  is  de- 
sired to  bear  in  mind,  that  as  the  corruptions  are 
more  numerous,  and  of  a  grosser  kind  than  can 
be  well  conceived  but  by  those  who  have  looked 
nearly  into  them ;  so  in  the  correcting  them  this 
rule  hath  been  most  strictly  observed,  not  to  give 
a  loose  to  fancy,  or  indulge  a  licentious  spirit  of 
criticism,  as  if  it  were  fit  for  any  one  to  presume  to 
judge  what  Shakspeare  ought  to  have  written,  in- 
stead of  endeavouring  to  discover  truly  and  retrieve 
what  he  did  write :  and  so  great  caution  hath  been 
used  in  this  respect,  that  no  alterations  have  been 
made,  but  what  the  sense  necessarily  required, 
what  the  measure  of  the  verse  often  helped  to 
point  out,  and  what  the  similitude  of  words  in  the 
false  reading  and  in  the  true,  generally  speaking, 
appeared  very  well  to  justify. 

Most  of  those  passages  are  here  thrown  to  the 
bottom  of  the  page,  and  rejected  as  spurious,  which 
were  stigmatized  as  such  in  Mr.  Pope's  edition  j 
and  it  were  to  be  wished  that  more  had  then  un- 
dergone the  same  sentence.    The  promoter  of  the 


224      SIR  T.  HANMER'S  PREFACE. 

present  edition  hath  ventured  to  discard  but  few 
more  upon  his  own  judgment,  the  most  consider- 
able of  which  is  that  wretched  piece  of  ribaldry  in 
King  Henry  the  Fifth,  put  into  the  mouths  of  the 
French  princess  and  an  old  gentlewoman,  improper 
enough  as  it  is  all  in  French,  and  not  intelligible 
to  an  English  audience,  and  yet  that  perhaps  is 
the  best  thing  that  can  be  said  of  it.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  but  a  great  deal  more  of  that  low  stuff, 
which  disgraces  the  works  of  this  great  author, 
was  foisted  in  by  the  players  after  his  death,  to 
please  the  vulgar  audiences  by  which  they  subsist- 
ed :  and  though  some  of  the  poor  witticisms  and 
conceits  must  be  supposed  to  have  fallen  from  his 
pen,  yet  as  he  hath  put  them  generally  into  the 
mouths  of  low  and  ignorant  people,  so  it  is  to  be 
remembered  that  he  wrote  for  the  stage,  rude  and 
unpolished  as  it  then  was ;  and  the  vicious  taste  of 
the  age  must  stand  condemned  for  them,  since  he 
hath  left  upon  record  a  signal  proof  how  much  he 
despised  them.  In  his  play  of  The  Merchant  of 
Venice,  a  clown  is  introduced  quibbling  in  a  mi- 
serable manner;  upon  which  one,  who  bears  the 
character  of  a  man  of  sense,  makes  the  following 
reflection  :  How  every  fool  can  play  upon  a  word! 
I  think  the  best  grace  of  wit  will  shortly  turn  into 
silence,  and  discourse  grow  commendable  in  none  but 
parrots.  He  could  hardly  have  found  stronger 
words  to  express  his  indignation  at  those  false  pre- 
tences to  wit  then  in  vogue ;  and  therefore  though 
such  trash  is  frequently  interspersed  in  his  writings, 
it  would  be  unjust  to  cast  it  as  an  imputation  upon 
his  taste  and  judgment  and  character  as  a  writer. 

There  being  many  words  in  Shakspeare  which 
are  grown  out  of  use  and  obsolete,  and  many  bor- 
rowed from  other  languages  which  are  not  enough 


SIR  T.  HANMER'S  PREFACE.       225 

naturalized  or  known  among  us,  a  glossary  is  added 
at  the  end  of  the  work,  for  the  explanation  of  all 
those  terms  which  have  hitherto  been  so  many 
stumbling-blocks  to  the  generality  of  readers ;  and 
where  there  is  any  obscurity  in  the  text,  not  arising 
from  the  words,  but  from  a  reference  to  some  an- 
tiquated customs  now  forgotten,  or  other  causes  of 
that  kind,  a  note  is  put  at  the  bottom  of  the  page, 
to  clear  up  the  difficulty. 

With  these  several  helps,  if  that  rich  vein  of 
sense  which  runs  through  the  works  of  this  author 
can  be  retrieved  in  every  part,  and  brought  to 
appear  in  its  true  light,  and  if  it  may  be  hoped, 
without  presumption,  that  this  is  here  effected; 
they  who  love  and  admire  him  will  receive  a  new 
pleasure,  and  all  probably  will  be  more  ready  to 
join  in  doing  him  justice,  who  does  great  honour 
to  his  country  as  a  rare  and  perhaps  a  singular 
genius ;  one  who  hath  attained  a  high  degree  of 
perfection  in  those  two  great  branches  of  poetry, 
tragedy  and  comedy,  different  as  they  are  in  their 
natures  from  each  other;  and  who  may  be  said 
without  partiality  to  have  equalled,  if  not  excelled, 
in  both  kinds,  the  best  writers  of  any  age  or 
country,  who  have  thought  it  glory  enough  to 
distinguish  themselves  in  either. 

Since  therefore  other  nations  have  taken  care  to 
dignify  the  works  of  their  most  celebrated  poets 
with  the  fairest  impressions  beautified  with  the 
ornaments  of  sculpture,  well  may  our  Shakspeare 
be  thought  to  deserve  no  less  consideration  :  and 
as  a  fresh  acknowledgment  hath  lately  been  paid 
to  his  merit,  and  a  high  regard  to  his  name  and 
memory,  by  erecting  his  statue  at  a  publick  ex- 
pence;  so  it  is  desired  that  this  new  edition  of  his 

VOL.   I.  Q 


226     DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE. 

works,  which  hath  cost  some  attention  and  care, 
may  be  looked  upon  as  another  small  monument 
designed  and  dedicated  to  his  honour. 


DR.  WARBURTON'S 


PREFACE. 

IT  hath  been  no  unusual  thing  for  writers,  when 
dissatisfied  with  the  patronage  or  judgment  of 
their  own  times,  to  appeal  to  posterity  for  a  fair 
hearing.  Some  have  even  thought  fit  to  apply  to  it 
in  the  first  instance ;  and  to  decline  acquaintance 
with  the  publick,  till  envy  and  prejudice  had  quite 
subsided.  But,  of  all  the  trusters  to  futurity,  com- 
mend me  to  the  author  of  the  following  poems, 
who  not  only  left  it  to  time  to  do  him  justice  as  it 
would,  but  to  find  him  out  as  it  could.  For,  what 
between  too  great  attention  to  his  profit  as  a 
player,  and  too  little  to  his  reputation  as  a  poet, 
his  works,  left  to  the  care  of  door-keepers  and 
prompters,  hardly  escaped  the  common  fate  of 
those  writings,  how  good  soever,  which  are  aban- 
doned to  their  own  fortune,  and  unprotected  by 
party  or  cabal.  At  length,  indeed,  they  struggled 
into  light ;  but  so  disguised  and  travested,  that  no 
classick  author,  after  having  run  ten  secular  stages 


DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE.     227 

through  the  blind  cloisters  of  monks  and  canons, 
ever  came  out  in  half  so  maimed  and  mangled  a 
condition.  But  for  a  full  account  of  his  disorders, 
I  refer  the  reader  to  the  excellent  discourse  which 
follows,7  and  turn  myself  to  consider  the  remedies 
that  have  been  applied  to  them. 

Shakspeare's  works,  when  they  escaped  the 
players,  did  not  fall  into  much  better  hands  when 
they  came  amongst  printers  and  booksellers;  who, 
to  say  the  truth,  had  at  first  but  small  encourage- 
ment for  putting  them  into  a  better  condition. 
The  stubborn  nonsense,  with  which  he  was  incrust- 
ed,  occasioned  his  lying  long  neglected  amongst 
the  common  lumber  of  the  stage.  And  when  that 
resistless  splendor,  which  now  shoots  all  around 
him,  had,  by  degrees,  broke  through  the  shell  of 
those  impurities,  his  dazzled  admirers  became  as 
suddenly  insensible  to  the  extraneous  scurf  that 
still  stuck  upon  him,  as  they  had  been  before  to 
the  native  beauties  that  lay  under  it.  So  that,  as 
then  he  was  thought  not  to  deserve  a  cure,  he  was 
now  supposed  not  to  need  any. 

His  growing  eminence,  however,  required  that 
he  should  be  used  with  ceremony ;  and  he  soon 
had  his  appointment  of  an  editor  in  form.  But  the 
bookseller,  whose  dealing  was  with  wits,  having 
learnt  of  them,  I  know  not  what  silly  maxim,  that 
none  but  a  poet  should  presume  to  meddle  with  a  poet, 
engaged  the  ingenious  Mr.  Rowe  to  undertake 
this  employment.  A  wit  indeed  he  was ;  but  so 
utterly  unacquainted  with  the  whole  business  of 
criticism,  that  he  did  not  even  collate  or  consult 
the  first  editions  of  the  work  he  undertook  to 
publish ;  but  contented  himself  with  giving  us  a 

7  Mr.  Pope's  Preface.     Reei>. 
Q2 


228     DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE. 

meagre  account  of  the  author's  life,  interlarded 
with  some  common-place  scraps  from  his  writings. 
The'truth  is,  Shakspeare's  condition  was  yet  but 
ill  understood.  The  nonsense,  now,  by  consent,  re- 
ceived for  his  own,  was  held  in  a  kind  of  reverence 
for  its  age  and  author ;  and  thus  it  continued  till 
another  great  poet  broke  the  charm,  by  showing 
us,  that  the  higher  we  went,  the  less  of  it  was  still 
to  be  found. 

For  the  proprietors,  not  discouraged  by  their  first 
unsuccessful  effort,  in  due  time,  made  a  second  j 
and,  though  they  still  stuck  to  their  poets,  with  in- 
finitely more  success  in  their  choice  of  Mr.  Pope, 
who,  by  the  mere  force  of  an  uncommon  genius, 
without  any  particular  study  or  profession  of  this 
art,  discharged  the  great  parts  of  it  so  well,  as  to 
make  his  edition  the  best  foundation  for  all  further 
improvements.  He  separated  the  genuine  from  the 
spurious  plays ;  and,  with  equal  judgment,  though 
not  always  with  the  same  success,  attempted  to 
clear  the  genuine  plays  from  the  interpolated 
scenes :  he  then  consulted  the  old  editions ;  and, 
by  a  careful  collation  of  them,  rectified  the  faulty, 
and  supplied  the  imperfect  reading,  in  a  great 
number  of  places :  and  lastly,  in  an  admirable 
preface,  hath  drawn  a  general,  but  very  lively 
sketch  of  Shakspeare's  poetick  character ;  and,  in 
the  corrected  text,  marked  out  those  peculiar 
strokes  of  genius  which  were  most  proper  to  sup- 
port and  illustrate  that  character.  Thus  far  Mr. 
Pope.  And  although  much  more  was  to  be  done 
before  Shakspeare  could  be  restored  to  himself 
(such  as  amending  the  corrupted  text  where 
the  printed  books  afford  no  assistance;  explain- 
ing his  licentious  phraseology  and  obscure  al- 
lusions;   and    illustrating    the    beauties    of  his 


DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE.     229 

poetry) ;  yet,  with  great  modesty  and  prudence, 
our  illustrious  editor  left  this  to  the  critick  by 
profession. 

But  nothing  will  give  the  common  reader  a  bet- 
ter idea  of  the  value  of  Mr.  Pope's  edition,  than  the 
two  attempts  which  have  been  since  made  by  Mr. 
Theobald  and  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  in  opposition  to 
it ;  who,  although  they  concerned  themselves  only 
in  the  first  of  these  three  parts  of  criticism,  the 
restoring  the  text,  (without  any  conception  of  the 
second,  or  venturing  even  to  touch  upon  the  third,) 
yet  succeeded  so  very  ill  in  it,  that  they  left  their 
author  in  ten  times  a  worse  condition  than  they 
found  him.  But,  as  it  was  my  ill  fortune  to  have 
some  accidental  connections  with  these  two  gentle- 
men, it  will  be  incumbent  on  me  to  be  a  little  more 
particular  concerning  them. 

The  one  was  recommended  to  me  as  a  poor  man; 
the  other  as  a  poor  critick  :  and  to  each  of  them, 
at  different  times,  I  communicated  a  great  number 
of  observations,  which  they  managed,  as  they  saw 
fit,  to  the  relief  of  their  several  distresses.  As  to 
Mr.  Theobald,  who  wanted  money,  I  allowed  him 
to  print  what  I  gave  him  for  his  own  advantage ; 
and  he  allowed  himself  in  the  liberty  of  taking  one 
part  for  his  own,  and  sequestering  another  for  the 
benefit,  as  I  supposed,  of  some  future  edition. 
But,  as  to  the  Oxford  editor,  who  wanted  nothing 
but  what  he  might  very  well  be  without,  the  repu- 
tation of  a  critick,  I  could  not  so  easily  forgive  him 
for  trafficking  with  my  papers,  without  my  know- 
ledge ;  and,  when  that  project  failed,  for  employ- 
ing a  number  of  my  conjectures  in  his  edition 
against  my  express  desire  not  to  have  that  honour 
done  unto  me. 

Mr.  Theobald  was  naturally  turned  to  industry 


230     DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE. 

and  labour.  What  he  read  he  could  transcribe : 
but,  as  what  he  thought,  if  ever  he  did  think,  he 
could  but  ill  express,  so  he  read  on :  and  by  that 
means  got  a  character  of  learning,  without  risqu- 
ing,  to  every  observer,  the  imputation  of  wanting 
a  better  talent.  By  a  punctilious  collation  of  the 
old  books,  he  corrected  what  was  manifestly  wrong 
in  the  latter  editions,  by  what  was  manifestly  right 
in  the  earlier.  And  this  is  his  real  merit ;  and  the 
whole  of  it.  For  where  the  phrase  was  very  obso- 
lete or  licentious  in  the  common  books,  or  only 
slightly  corrupted  in  the  other ;  he  wanted  sufficient 
knowledge  of  the  progress  and  various  stages  of 
the  English  tongue,  as  well  as  acquaintance  with 
the  peculiarity  of  Shakspeare's  language,  to  under- 
stand what  was  right ;  nor  had  he  either  common 
judgment  to  see,  or  critical  sagacity  to  amend,  what 
was  manifestly  faulty.  Hence  he  generally  exerts 
his  conjectural  talent  in  the  wrong  place :  he  tam- 
pers with  what  is  sound  in  the  common  books;  and, 
in  the  old  ones,  omits  all  notice  of  variations,  the 
sense  of  which  he  did  not  understand. 

How  the  Oxford  editor  came  to  think  himself 
qualified  for  this  office,  from  which  his  whole 
course  of  life  had  been  so  remote,  is  still  more 
difficult  to  conceive.  For  whatever  parts  he  might 
have  either  of  genius  or  erudition,  he  was  abso- 
lutely ignorant  of  the  art  of  criticism,  as  well  as 
of  the  poetry  of  that  time,  and  the  language  of 
his  author.  And  so  far  from  a  thought  of  exa- 
mining the  first  editions,  that  he  even  neglected 
to  compare  Mr.  Pope's,  from  which  he  printed  his 
own,  with  Mr.  Theobald's ;  whereby  he  lost  the 
advantage  of  many  fine  lines,  which  the  other  had 
recovered  from  the  old  quartos.  Where  he  trusts 
to  his  own  sagacity,  in  what  affects  the  sense,  his 


DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE.     231 

conjectures  are  generally  absurd  and  extravagant, 
and  violating  every  rule  of  criticism.    Though,  in 
this  rage  of  correcting,  he  was  not  absolutely  de- 
stitute of  all  art  For,  having  a  number  of  my  con- 
jectures before  him,  he  took  as  many  of  them  as 
he  saw  fit,  to  work  upon ;  and  by  changing  them 
to  something,  he  thought,  synonymous  or  similar, 
he  made  them  his  own ;  and  so  became  a  critick  at 
a  cheap  expence.  But  how  well  he  hath  succeeded 
in  this,  as  likewise  in  his  conjectures,  which  are 
properly  his  own,  will  be  seen  in  the  course  of  my 
remarks ;  though,  as  he  hath  declined  to  give  the 
reasons  for  his  interpolations,  he  hath  not  afforded 
me  so  fair  a  hold  of  him  as  Mr.  Theobald  hath 
done,  who  was  less  cautious.  But  his  principal  ob- 
ject was  to  reform  his  author's  numbers;  and  this, 
which  he  hath  done,  on  every  occasion,  by  the  in- 
sertion or  omission  of  a  set  of  harmless  uncon- 
cerning  expletives,  makes  up  the  gross  body  of  his 
innocent  corrections.    And  so,  in  spite  of  that  ex- 
treme negligence  in  numbers,  which  distinguishes 
the  first  dramatick  writers,  he  hath  tricked  up  the 
old  bard,  from  head  to  foot,  in  all  the  finical  ex- 
actness of  a  modern  measurer  of  syllables. 

For  the  rest,  all  the  corrections,  which  these  two 
editors  have  made  on  any  reasonable  foundation, 
are  here  admitted  into  the  text ;  and  carefully  as- 
signed to  their  respective  authors:  a  piece  of  justice 
which  the  Oxford  editor  never  did ;  and  which  the 
other  was  not  always  scrupulous  in  observing  to- 
wards me.  To  conclude  with  them  in  a  word, 
they  separately  possessed  those  two  qualities  which, 
more  than  any  other,  have  contributed  to  bring  the 
art  of  criticism  into  disrepute,  dulness  of  apprehen- 
sion, and  extravagance  of  conjecture, 

I  am  now  to  give  some  account  of  the  present 


232     DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE. 

undertaking.  For  as  to  all  those  things  which  have 
been  published  under  the  titles  of  Essays,  Remarks, 
Observations,  fyc.  on  Shakspeare,  (if  you  except 
some  critical  notes  on  Macbeth*  given  as  a  speci- 
men of  a  projected  edition,  and  written,  as  appears, 
by  a  man  of  parts  and  genius,)  the  rest  are  abso- 
lutely below  a  serious  notice. 

The  whole  a  critick  can  do  for  an  author,  who 
deserves  his  service,  is  to  correct  the  faulty  text ; 
to  remark  the  peculiarities  of  language ;  to  illus- 
trate the  obscure  allusions ;  and  to  explain  the 
beauties  and  defects  of  sentiment  or  composition. 
And  surely,  if  ever  author  had  a  claim  to  this  ser- 
vice, it  was  our  Shakspeare  ;  who,  widely  excelling 
in  the  knowledge  of  human  nature,  hath  given  to 
his  infinitely  varied  pictures  of  it,  such  truth  of 
design,  such  force  of  drawing,   such  beauty  of 
colouring,  as  was  hardly  ever  equalled  by  any 
writer,  whether  his  aim  was  the  use,  or  only  the 
entertainment  of  mankind.     The  notes  in  this 
edition,  therefore,  take  in  the  whole  compass  of 
criticism. 

I.  The  first  sort  is  employed  in  restoring  the 
poet's  genuine  text ;  but  in  those  places  only  where 
it  labours  with  inextricable  nonsense.  In  which, 
how  much  soever  I  may  have  given  scope  to  criti- 
cal conjecture,  where  the  old  copies  failed  me,  I 
have  indulged  nothing  to  fancy  or  imagination; 
but  have  religiously  observed  the  severe  canons  of 
literal  criticism,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  reasons 
accompanying  every  alteration  of  the  common  text. 
Nor  would  a  different  conduct  have  become  a  cri- 
tick, whose  greatest  attention,  in  this  part,  was  to 
vindicate  the  established  reading  from  interpola- 

•  Published  in  i?45,  by  Dr.  Johnson.    Reed. 


DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE.     233 

tions  occasioned  by  the  fanciful  extravagancies  of 
others.  I  once  intended  to  have  given  the  reader 
a  body  of  canons^  for  literal  criticism,  drawn  out  in 
form;  as  well  such  as  concern  the  art  in  general, 
as  those  that  arise  from  the  nature  and  circum- 
stances of  our  author's  works  in  particular.  And 
this  for  two  reasons.  First,  to  give  the  unlearned 
reader  a  just  idea,  and  consequently  a  better  opi- 
nion of  the  art  of  criticism,  now  sunk  very  low  in 
the  popular  esteem,  by  the  attempts  of  some  who 
would  needs  exercise  it  without  either  natural  or 
acquired  talents;  and  by  the  ill  success  of  others, 
who  seemed  to  have  lost  both,  when  they  came  to 
try  them  upon  English  authors.  Secondly,  To 
deter  the  unlearned  writer  from  wantonly  trifling 
with  an  art  he  is  a  stranger  to,  at  the  expence  of 
his  own  reputation,  and  the  integrity  of  the  text  of 
established  authors.  But  these  uses  may  be  well 
supplied  by  what  is  occasionally  said  upon  the  sub- 
ject, in  the  course  of  the  following  remarks. 

II.  The  second  sort  of  notes  consists  in  an  ex- 
planation of  the  author's  meaning,  when  by  one 
or  more  of  these  causes  it  becomes  obscure;  either 
from  a  licentious  use  of  terms  ^  or  a  hard  or  ungram- 
matical  construction  ;  or  lastly,  from  farfetched  or 
quaint  allusions. 

1.  This  licentious  use  of  words  is  almost  pecu- 
liar to  the  language  of  Shakspeare.  To  common 
terms  he  hath  affixed  meanings  of  his  own,  un- 
authorized by  use,  and  not  to  be  justified  by  ana- 
logy. And  this  liberty  he  hath  taken  with  the 
noblest  parts  of  speech,  such  as  mixed  modes;  which, 
as  they  are  most  susceptible  of  abuse,  so  their  abuse 
much  hurts  the  clearness  of  the  discourse.  The 
criticks  (to  whom  Shakspeare's  licence  was  still  as 
much  a  secret  as  his  meaning  which  that  licence 


234     DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE. 

had  obscured)  fell  into  two  contrary  mistakes  ;  but 
equally  injurious  to  his  reputation  and  his  writings. 
For  some  of  them,  observing  a  darkness  that  per- 
vaded his  whole  expression,  have  censured  him  for 
confusion  of  ideas  and  inaccuracy  of  reasoning. 
In  the  neighing  of  a  horse  (says  Rymer)  or  in  the 
growling  of  a  mastiff,  there  is  a  meaning,  there  is 
a  lively  expression,  and,  may  I  say,  more  humanity 
than  many  times  in  the  tragical  flights  of  ShaJcspeare. 
The  ignorance  of  which  censure  is  of  a  piece  with 
its  brutality.    The  truth  is,  no  one  thought  clearer, 
or  argued  more  closely,  than  this  immortal  bard. 
But  his  superiority  of  genius  less  needing  the  in- 
tervention of  words  in  the  act  of  thinking,  when 
he  came  to  draw  out  his  contemplations  into  dis- 
course, he  took  up  (as  he  was  hurried  on  by  the 
torrent  of  his  matter)  with  the  first  words  that  lay 
in  his  way;  and  if,  amongst  these,  there  were  two 
mixed  modes  that  had  but  a  principal  idea  in  com- 
mon, it  was  enough  for  him ;  he  regarded  them  as 
synonymous,  and  would  use  the  one  for  the  other 

without   fear   or  scruple. Again,  there  have 

been  others,  such  as  the  two  last  editors,  who  have 
fallen  into  a  contrary  extreme ;  and  regarded 
Shakspeare's  anomalies  (as  we  may  call  them) 
amongst  the  corruptions  of  his  text ;  which,  there- 
fore, they  have  cashiered  in  great  numbers,  to 
make  room  for  a  jargon  of  their  own.  This  hath 
put  me  to  additional  trouble ;  for  I  had  not  only 
their  interpolations  to  throw  out  again,  but  the 
genuine  text  to  replace,  and  establish  in  its  stead ; 
which,  in  many  cases,  could  not  be  done  without 
showing  the  peculiar  sense  of  the  terms,  and  ex- 
plaining the  causes  which  led  the  poet  to  so  perverse 
a  use  of  them.  I  had  it  once,  indeed,  in  my  design, 
to  give  a  general  alphabetick  glossary  of  those 


DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE.     235 

terms ;  but  as  each  of  them  is  explained  in  its  pro- 
per place,  there  seemed  the  less  occasion  for  such 
an  index. 

2.  The  poet's  hard  and  unnatural  construction 
had  a  different  original.  This  was  the  effect  of 
mistaken  art  and  design.  The  publick  taste  was 
in  its  infancy;  and  delighted  (as  it  always  does 
during  that  state)  in  the  high  and  turgid  ;  which 
leads  the  writer  to  disguise  a  vulgar  expression  with 
hard  and  forced  construction,  whereby  the  sentence 
frequently  becomes  cloudy  and  dark.  Here  his 
criticks  show  their  modesty,  and  leave  him  to  him- 
self. For  the  arbitrary  change  of  a  word  doth  little 
towards  dispelling  an  obscurity  that  ariseth,  not 
from  the  licentious  use  of  a  single  term,  but  from 
the  unnatural  arrangement  of  a  whole  sentence. 
And  they  risqued  nothing  by  their  silence.  For 
Shakspeare  was  too  clear  in  fame  to  be  suspected 
of  a  want  of  meaning ;  and  too  high  in  fashion  for 
any  one  to  own  he  needed  a  critick  to  find  it  out. 
Not  but,  in  his  best  works,  we  must  allow,  he  is 
often  so  natural  and  flowing,  so  pure  and  correct, 
that  he  is  even  a  model  for  style  and  language. 

3.  As  to  his  far-fetched  and  quaint  allusions, 
these  are  often  a  cover  to  common  thoughts  ;  just 
as  his  hard  construction  is  to  common  expression. 
When  they  are  not  so,  the  explanation  of  them  has 
this  further  advantage,  that,  in  clearing  the  ob- 
scurity, you  frequently  discover  some  latent  con- 
ceit not  unworthy  of  his  genius. 

III.  The  third  and  last  sort  of  notes  is  con- 
cerned in  a  critical  explanation  of  the  author's 
beauties  and  defects ;  but  chiefly  of  his  beauties, 
whether  in  style,  thought,  sentiment,  character,  or 
composition.  An  odd  humour  of  finding  fault  hath 
long  prevailed  amongst  the  criticks  j  as  if  nothing 


236     DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE. 

were  worth  remarking,  that  did  not,  at  the  same 
time,  deserve  to  be  reproved.  Whereas  the  pub- 
lick  judgment  hath  less  need  to  be  assisted  in  what 
it  shall  reject,  than  in  what  it  ought  to  prize ;  men 
being  generally  more  ready  at  spying  faults  than  in 
discovering  beauties.  Nor  is  the  value  they  set 
upon  a  work,  a  certain  proof  that  they  understand 
it.  For  it  is  ever  seen,  that  half  a  dozen  voices  of 
credit  give  the  lead  :  and  if  the  publick  chance  to 
be  in  good  humour,  or  the  author  much  in  their 
favour,  the  people  are  sure  to  follow.  Hence  it  is 
that  the  true  critick  hath  so  frequently  attached 
himself  to  works  of  established  reputation ;  not  to 
teach  the  world  to  admire,  which,  in  those  circum- 
stances, to  say  the  truth,  they  are  apt  enough  to  do 
of  themselves ;  but  to  teach  them  how,  "with  reason 
to  admire:  no  easy  matter,  I  will  assure  you,  on  the 
subject  in  question  :  for  though  it  be  very  true,  as 
Mr.  Pope  hath  observed,  that  Shakspeare  is  the 
fairest  and  fullest  subject  for  criticism,  yet  it  is  not 
such  a  sort  of  criticism  as  may  be  raised  mechani- 
cally on  the  rules  which  Dacier,  Rapin,  and  Bossu, 
have  collected  from  antiquity ;  and  of  which,  such 
kind  of  writers  as  Rymer,  Gildon,  Dennis,  and 
Oldmixon,  have  only  gathered  and  chewed  the 
husks  :  nor  on  the  other  hand  is  it  to  be  formed  on 
the  plan  of  those  crude  and  superficial  judgments, 
on  books  and  things,  with  which  a  certain  cele- 
brated paper9  so  much  abounds  ;  too  good  indeed 
to  be  named  with  the  writers  last  mentioned,  but 
being  unluckily  mistaken  for  a  model,  because  it 
was  an  original,  it  hath  given  rise  to  a  deluge  of  the 
worst  sort  of  critical  jargon ;  I  mean  that  which 
looks  most  like  sense.     But  the  kind  of  criticism 

9  The  Spectator.    Reed. 


DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE.    287 

here  required,  is  such  as  judgeth  our  author  by 
those  only  laws  and  principles  on  which  he  wrote, 
Nature,  and  Common -sense. 

Our  observations,  therefore,  being  thus  exten- 
sive, will,  I  presume,  enable  the  reader  to  form  a 
right  judgment  of  this  favourite  poet,  without 
drawing  out  his  character,  as  was  once  intended, 
in  a  continued  discourse. 

These,  such  as  they  are,  were  among  my  younger 
amusements,  when,  many  years  ago,  I  used  to  turn 
over  these  sort  of  writers  to  unbend  myself  from 
more  serious  applications :  and  what  certainly  the 
publick  at  this  time  of  day  had  never  been  troubled 
with,  but  for  the  conduct  of  the  two  last  editors, 
and  the  persuasions  of  dear  Mr.  Pope;  whose  me- 
mory and  name, 

"         .1  semper  acerbutn, 

**  Semper  honoratum  (sic  Di  voluistis)  habebo." 

He  was  desirous  I  should  give  a  new  edition  of  this 
poet,  as  he  thought  it  might  contribute  to  put  a 
stop  to  a  prevailing  folly  of  altering  the  text  of 
celebrated  authors  without  talents  or  judgment. 
And  he  was  willing  that  his  edition  should  be 
melted  down  into  mini,,  as  it  would,  he  said,  afford 
him  (so  great  is  the  modesty  of  an  ingenuous 
temper)  a  fit  opportunity  of  confessing  his  mistakes.1 
In  memory  of  our  friendship,  I  have,  therefore, 
made  it  our  joint  edition.  His  admirable  preface 
is  here  added;  all  his  notes  are  given,  with  his 
name  annexed ;  the  scenes  are  divided  according 
to  his  regulation  ;  and  the  most  beautiful  passages 
distinguished,  as  in  his  book,  with  inverted  commas, 

1  See  bis  Letters  to  me. 


rtHvU  j^'hrt&-wtf^i 


238    DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE. 

In  imitation  of  him,  I  have  done  the  same  by  as 
many  others  as  I  thought  most  deserving  of  the 
reader's  attention,  and  have  marked  them  with 
double  commas. 

If,  from  all  this,  Shakspeare  or  good  letters  have 
received  any  advantage,  and  the  publick  any  bene- 
fit, or  entertainment,  the  thanks  are  due  to  the 
proprietors,  who  have  been  at  the  expence  of  pro- 
curing this  edition.  And  I  should  be  unjust  to 
several  deserving  men  of  a  reputable  and  useful 
profession,  if  I  did  not,  on  this  occasion,  acknow- 
ledge the  fair  dealing  I  have  always  found  amongst 
them ;  and  profess  my  sense  of  the  unjust  prejudice 
which  lies  against  them ;  whereby  they  have  been, 
hitherto,  unable  to  procure  that  security  for  their 
property,  which  they  see  the  rest  of  their  fellow- 
citizens  enjoy.  A  prejudice  in  part  arising  from 
the  frequent  piracies  (as  they  are  called)  committed 
by  members  of  their  own  body.  But  such  kind  of 
members  no  body  is  without.  And  it  would  be 
hard  that  this  should  be  turned  to  the  discredit  of 
the  honest  part  of  the  profession,  who  suffer  more 
from  such  injuries  than  any  other  men.  It  hath, 
in  part  too,  arisen  from  the  clamours  of  profligate 
scribblers,  ever  ready,  for  a  piece  of  money,  to 
prostitute  their  bad  sense  for  or  against  any  cause 
profane  or  sacred ;  or  in  any  scandal  publick  or 
private :  these  meeting  with  little  encouragement 
from  men  of  account  in  the  trade  (who,  even  in 
this  enlightened  age,  are  not  the  very  worst  judges 
or  rewarders  of  merit,)  apply  themselves  to  people 
of  condition  ;  and  support  their  importunities  by 
false  complaints  against  booksellers. 

But  I  should  now,  perhaps,  rather  think  of  my 
own  apology,  than  busy  myself  in  the  defence  of 
others.  I  shall  have  some  Tartuffe  ready,  on  the 


DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE.     239 

first  appearance  of  this  edition,  to  call  out  again, 
and  tell  me,  that  I  suffer  myself  to  be  wholly  di- 
verted from  my  purpose  by  these  matters  less  suitable 
to  my  clerical  profession.  "  Well,  but  (says  a  friend) 
why  not  take  so  candid  an  intimation  in  good  part? 
Withdraw  yourself  again,  as  you  are  bid,  into  the 
clerical  pale ;  examine  the  records  of  sacred  and 
profane  antiquity;  and,  on  them,  erect  a  work  to 
the  confusion  of  infidelity."  Why,  I  have  done  all 
this,  and  more :  and  hear  now  wnat  the  same  men 
have  said  to  it.  They  tell  me,  /  have  wrote  to  the 
wrong  and  injury  of  religion,  and  furnisfied  out 
more  handles  for  unbelievers.  "Oh!  now  the  se- 
cret is  out ;  and  you  may  have  your  pardon,  I  find, 
upon  easier  terms.     It  is  only  to  write  no  more." 

Good  gentlemen !  and  shall  I  not  oblige  them? 

They  would  gladly  obstruct  my  way  to  those  things 
which  every  man,  who  endeavours  well  in  his  pro- 
fession, must  needs  think  he  has  some  claim  to, 
when  he  sees  them  given  to  those  who  never  did 
endeavour;  at  the  same  time  that  they  would  deter 
me  from  taking  those  advantages  which  letters 
enable  me  to  procure  for  myself.  If  then  I  am  to 
write  no  more  (though  as  much  out  of  my  pro- 
fession as  they  may  please  to  represent  this  work, 
I  suspect  their  modesty  would  not  insist  on  a  scru- 
tiny of  our  several  applications  of  this  profane 
profit  and  their  purer  gains,)  if,  I  say,  I  am  to 
write  no  more,  let  me  at  least  give  the  publick,who 
have  a  better  pretence  to  demand  it  of  me,  some 
reason  for  my  presenting  them  with  these  amuse- 
ments :  which,  if  I  am  not  much  mistaken,  may 
be  excused  by  the  best  and  fairest  examples;  ana, 
what  is  more,  may  be  justified  on  the  surer  reason 
of  things. 

The  great  Saint  Chrysostom,  a  name  conse- 


340     DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE. 

crated  to  immortality  by  his  virtue  and  eloquence, 
is  known  to  have  been  so  fond  of  Aristophanes,  as 
to  wake  with  him  at  his  studies,  and  to  sleep  with 
him  under  his  pillow :  and  I  never  heard  that  this 
was  objected  either  to  his  piety  or  his  preaching, 
not  even  in  those  times  of  pure  zeal  and  primitive 
religion.  Yet,  in  respect  of  Shakspeare's  great 
sense,  Aristophanes's  best  wit  is  but  buffoonery; 
and,  in  comparison  of  Aristophanes's  freedoms, 
Shakspeare  writes  writh  the  purity  of  a  vestal.  But 
they  will  say,  St.  Chrysostom  contracted  a  fondness 
for  the  comick  poet  for  the  sake  of  his  Greek.  To 
this,  indeed,  I  have  nothing  to  reply.  Far  be  it 
from  me  to  insinuate  so  unscholar-like  a  thing,  as 
if  we  had  the  same  use  for  good  English,  that  a 
Greek  had  for  his  Attick  elegance.  Critick  Kuster, 
in  a  taste  and  language  peculiar  to  grammarians  of 
a  certain  order,  hath  decreed,  that  the  history  and 
chronology  of  Greek  words  is  the  most  SOLID  en- 
tertainment of  a  man  of  letters. 

I  fly  then  to  a  higher  example,  much  nearer 
home,  and  still  more  in  point,  the  famous  univer- 
sity of  Oxford.  This  illustrious  body,  which 
hath  long  so  justly  held,  and  with  such  equity  dis- 
pensed the  chier  honours  of  the  learned  world, 
thought  good  letters  so  much  interested  in  correct 
editions  of  the  best  English  writers,  that  they, 
very  lately,  in  their  publick  capacity,  undertook 
one  of  this  very  author  by  subscription.  And  if 
the  editor  hath  not  discharged  his  task  with  suitable 
abilities  for  one  so  much  honoured  by  them,  this 
was  not  their  fault,  but  his,  who  thrust  himself 
into  the  employment.  After  such  an  example,  it 
would  be  weakening  any  defence  to  seek  further 
for  authorities.  All  that  can  be  now  decently 
urged,  is  the  reason  of  the  thing;  and  this  I  shall 


DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE.     241 

do,  more  for  the  sake  of  that  truly  venerable  body 
than  my  own. 

Of  all  the  literary  exercitations  of  speculative 
men,  whether  designed  for  the  use  or  entertain- 
ment of  the  world,  there  are  none  of  so  much  im- 
portance or  what  are  more  our  immediate  concern, 
than  those  which  let  us  into  the  knowledge  of  our 
nature.  Others  may  exercise  the  reason,  or  amuse 
the  imagination  ;  but  these  only  can  improve  the 
heart,  and  form  the  human  mind  to  wisdom. 
Now,  in  this  science,  our  Shakspeare  is  confessed 
to  occupy  the  foremost  place ;  whether  we  consider 
the  amazing  sagacity  with  which  he  investigates 
every  hidden  spring  and  wheel  of  human  action  ; 
or  his  happy  manner  of  communicating  this  know- 
ledge, in  the  just  and  living  paintings  which  he 
has  given  us  of  all  our  passions,  appetites,  and 
pursuits.  These  afford  a  lesson  which  can  never  be 
too  often  repeated,  or  too  constantly  inculcated ; 
and,  to  engage  the  reader's  due  attention  to  it, 
hath  been  one  of  the  principal  objects  of  this 
edition. 

As  this  science  (whatever  profound  philosophers 
may  think)  is,  to  the  rest,  in  things;  so,  in  wordsy 
(whatever  supercilious  pedants  may  talk)  every 
one's  mother  tongue  is  to  all  other  languages. 
This  hath  still  been  the  sentiment  of  nature  and 
true  wisdom.  Hence,  the  greatest  men  of  anti- 
quity never  thought  themselves  better  employed, 
than  in  cultivating  their  own  country  idiom.  So, 
Lycurgus  did  honour  to  Sparta,  in  giving  the  first 
complete  edition  of  Homer  ;  and  Cicero  to  Rome, 
in  correcting  the  works  of  Lucretius.  Nor  do  we 
want  examples  of  the  same  good  sense  in  modern 
times,  even  amidst  the  cruel  inroads  that  art  and 

VOL.  I.  R 


242     DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE. 

fashion  have  made  upon  nature  and  the  simplicity 
of  wisdom.  Menage,  the  greatest  name  in  France 
for  all  kinds  of  philologick:  learning,  prided  him- 
self in  writing  critical  notes  on  their  best  lyrick 
poet  Malherbe :  and  our  greater  Selden,  when  he 
thought  it  might  reflect  credit  on  his  country,  did 
not  disdain  even  to  comment  a  very  ordinary  poet, 
one  Michael  Drayton.2  But  the  English  tongue, 
at  this  juncture,  deserves  and  demands  our  par- 
ticular regard.  It  hath,  by  means  of  the  many 
excellent  works  of  different  kinds  composed  in  it, 
engaged  the  notice,  and  become  the  study,  of  al- 
most every  curious  and  learned  foreigner,  so  as  to 
be  thought  even  a  part  of  literary  accomplishment. 
This  must  needs  make  it  deserving  of  a  critical 
attention :  and  its  being  yet  destitute  of  a  test  or 
standard  to  apply  to,  in  cases  of  doubt  or  difficulty, 
shows  how  much  it  wants  that  attention.  For  we 
have  neither  Grammar  nor  Dictionary,  neither 
chart  nor  compass,  to  guide  us  through  this  wide 
sea  of  words.  And  indeed  how  should  we  ?  since 
both  are  to  be  composed  and  finished  on  the  au- 
thority of  our  best  established  writers.  But  their 
authority  can  be  of  little  use,  till  the  text  hath  been 
correctly  settled,  and   the  phraseology  critically 


8  i  i  n  our  greater  Selden,  when  he  thought  he  might  reflect 
credit  on  his  country,  did  not  disdain  to  comment  a  very  ordinary 
poet,  one  Michael  Drayton.]  This  compliment  to  himself  for 
condescending  to  write  notes  on  Shakspeare,  Warburton  copied- 
from  Pope,  who  sacrificed  Drayton  to  gratify  the  vanity  of  this 
flattering  editor:  "  I  have  a  particular  reason  (says  Pope  in  a 
Letter  to  Warburton)  to  make  you  interest  yourself  in  me  and 
my  writings.  It  will  cause  both  them  and  me  to  make  a  better 
figure  to  posterity.  A  very  mediocre  poet,  one  Drayton,  is  yet 
taken  notice  of  because  Selden  tvrit  afefo  notes  on  one  of his  poems. f* 
Pope's  Works,  Vol.  IX.  p.  350,  8vo.  1751.  .     - 

Holt  White. 


DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE.     243 

examined.  As,  then,  by  these  aids,  a  Grammar  and 
Dictionary,  planned  upon  the  best  rules  of  logick 
and  philosophy  (and  none  but  such  will  deserve 
the  name,)  are  to  be  procured ;  the  forwarding  of 
this  will  be  a  general  concern  :  for,  as  Quintilian 
observes,  "  Verborum  proprietas  ac  differentia  om- 
nibus, qui  sermonem  curaj  habent,  debet  esse  com- 
munis." By  this  way,  the  Italians  have  brought 
their  tongue  to  a  degree  of  purity  and  stability, 
which  no  living  language  ever  attained  unto  before. 
It  is  with  pleasure  1  observe,  that  these  things  now 
begin  to  be  understood  among  ourselves;  and  that 
I  can  acquaint  the  publick,  we  may  soon  expect 
very  elegant  editions  of  Fletcher  and  Milton's 
Paradise  Lost,  from  gentlemen  of  distinguished 
abilities  and  learning.  But  this  interval  of  good 
sense,  as  it  may  be  short,  is  indeed  but  new.  For 
I  remember  to  have  heard  of  a  very  learned  man, 
who,  not  long  since,  formed  a  design,  of  giving  a 
more  correct  edition  of  Spenser ;  and,  without 
doubt,  would  have  performed  it  well ;  but  he  was 
dissuaded  from  his  purpose  by  his  friends,  as  be- 
neath the  dignity  of  a  professor  of  the  occult 
sciences.  Yet  these  very  friends,  I  suppose,  would 
have  thought  it  added  lustre  to  his  high  station,  to 
have  new-furnished  out  some  dull  northern  chro- 
nicle, or  dark  Sibylline  aenigma.  But  let  it  not  be 
thought  that  what  is  here  said  insinuates  any  thing 
to  the  discredit  of  Greek  and  Latin  criticism.  If 
the  follies  of  particular  men  were  sufficient  to  bring 
any  branch  of  learning  into  disrepute,  I  do  not 
know  any  that  would  stand  in  a  worse  situation  than 
that  for  which  I  now  apologize.  For  I  hardly  think 
there  ever  appeared,  in  any  learned  language,  so 
execrable  a  heap  of  nonsense,  under  the  name  of 

r2 


244     DR.  WARBURTON'S  PREFACE. 

commentaries,  as  hath  been  lately  given  us  on  a 
certain  satyrick  poet,  of  the  last  age,  by  his  editor 
and  coadjutor.3 

I  am  sensible  how  unjustly  the  very  best  classical 
criticks  have  been  treated.  It  is  said,  that  our 
great  philosopher4  spoke  with  much  contempt  of 
the  two  finest  scholars  of  this  age,  Dr.  Bentley  and 
Bishop  Hare,  for  squabbling,  as  he  expressed  it, 
about  an  old  play-book  ;  meaning,  I  suppose,  Te-" 
rence's  comedies.  But  this  story  is  unworthy  of 
him  ;  though  well  enough  suiting  the  fanatick  turn 
of  the  wild  writer  that  relates  it ;  such  censures 
are  amongst  the  follies  of  men  immoderately  given 
over  to  one  science,  and  ignorantly  undervaluing 
all  the  rest.  Those  learned  criticks  might,  and 
perhaps  did,  laugh  in  their  turn  (though  still,  sure, 
with  the  same  indecency  and  indiscretion,)  at  that 
incomparable  man,  for  wearing  out  a  long  life  in 
poring  through  a  telescope.  Indeed,  the  weak- 
nesses of  such  are  to  be  mentioned  with  reverence. 
But  who  can  bear,  without  indignation,  the  fashion- 
able cant  of  every  trifling  writer,  whose  insipidity 
passes,  with  himself,  for  politeness,  for  pretending 
to  be  shocked,  forsooth,  with  the  rude  and  savage 
air  of  vulgar  criticks ;  meaning  such  as  Muretus, 
Scaliger,  Casaubon,  Salmasius,  Spanheim,  Bentley! 
When,  had  it  not  been  for  the  deathless  labours  of 
such  as  these,  the  western  world,  at  the  revival  of 
letters,  had  soon  fallen  back  again  into  a  state  of 
ignorance  and  barbarity,  as  deplorable  as  that  from 
which  Providence  had  just  redeemed  it. 

*  This  alludes  to  Dr.  Grey's  edition  of  Hudibras  published  in 
1744.     Reed. 

4  Sir  Isaac  Newton.  See  Whiston's  Historical  Memoirs  of  the 
Life  of  Dr.  Clarkey  1748,  8vo.  p.  113.     Reed. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         245 

To  conclude  with  an  observation  of  a  fine  writer 
and  great  philosopher  of  our  own  ;  which  I  would 
gladly  bind,  though  with  all  honour,  as  a  phylac- 
tery, on  the  brow  of  every  awful  grammarian,  to 
teach  him  at  once  the  use  and  limits  of  his  art: 
Words  are  the  money  of  fools,  and  the  coun- 
ters OF  WISE  MEN. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S 

PREFACE5. 


THAT  praises  are  without  reason  lavished  on  the 
dead,  and  that  the  honours  due  only  to  excel- 
lence are  paid  to  antiquity,  is  a  complaint  likely 
to  be  always  continued  by  those,  who,  being  able 
to  add  nothing  to  truth,  hope  for  eminence  from 
the  heresies  of  paradox  ;  or  those,  who,  being 
forced  by  disappointment  upon  consolatory  expe- 
dients, are  willing  to  hope  from  posterity  what  the 
present  age  refuses,  and  flatter  themselves  that  the 
regard  which  is  yet  denied  by  envy,  will  be  at  last 
bestowed  by  time. 

Antiquity,  like  every  other  quality  that  attracts 
the  notice  of  mankind,  has  undoubtedly  votaries 

'  First  printed  in  176.5. 


246         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

that  reverence  it,  not  from  reason,  but  from  pre- 
judice. Some  seem  to  admire  indiscriminately 
whatever  has  been  long  preserved,  without  con- 
sidering that  time  has  sometimes  co-operated  with 
chance ;  all  perhaps  are  more  willing  to  honour 
past  than  present  excellence  ;  and  the  mind  con- 
templates genius  through  the  shades  of  age,  as  the 
eye  surveys  the  sun  through  artificial  opacity.  The 
great  contention  of  criticism  is  to  find  the  faults 
of  the  moderns,  and  the  beauties  of  the  ancients. 
While  an  author  is  yet  living,  we  estimate  his 
powers  by  his  worst  performance  ;  and  when  he  is 
dead,  we  rate  them  by  his  best. 

To  works,  however,  of  which  the  excellence  is 
not  absolute  and  definite,  but  gradual  and  compa- 
rative; to  works  not  raised  upon  principles  demon- 
strative and  scientifick,  but  appealing  wholly  to 
observation  and  experience,  no  other  test  can  be 
applied  than  length,  of  duration  and  continuance 
of  esteem.  What  mankinaf  have  long  possessed 
they  have  often  examined  and  compared,  and  if 
they  persist  to  value  the  possession,  it  is  because 
frequent  comparisons  have  confirmed  opinion  in 
its  favour.  As  among  the  works  of  nature  no  man 
can  properly  call  a  river  deep,  or  a  mountain  high, 
without  the  knowledge  of  many  mountains,  and 
many  rivers ;  so  in  the  production  of  genius,  no- 
thing can  be  styled  excellent  till  it  has  been  com* 
pared  wiili  other  works  of  the  same  kind.  Demon- 
stration immediately  displays  its  power,  and  has 
nothing  to  hope  or  fear  from  the  flux  of  years ;  but 
works  tentative  and  experimental  must  be  estimated 
by  their  proportion  to  the  general  and  collective 
ability  of  man,  as  it  is  discovered  in  a  long  suc- 
cession of  endeavours.  Of  the  first  building  that 
was  raised,  it  might  be  with  certainty  determined 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         247 

that  it  was  round  or  square ;  but  whether  it  was 
spacious  or  lofty  must  have  been  referred  to  time. 
The  Pythagorean  scale  of  numbers  was  at  once 
discovered  to  be  perfect ;  but  the  poems  of  Homer 
we  yet  know  not  to  transcend  the  common  limits 
of  human  intelligence,  but  by  remarking,  that  na- 
tion after  nation,  and  century  after  century,  has 
been  able  to  do  little  more  than  transpose  his  inci- 
dents, new  name  his  characters,  and  paraphrase  his 
sentiments. 

The  reverence  due  to  writings  that  have  long 
subsisted  arises  therefore  not  from  any  credulous 
confidence  in  the  superior  wisdom  of  past  ages,  or 
gloomy  persuasion  of  the  degeneracy  of  mankind, 
but  is  the  consequence  of  acknowledged  and  indu- 
bitable positions,  that  what  has  been  longest  known 
has  been  most  considered,  and  what  is  most  con- 
sidered is  best  understood. 

The  poet,  of  whose  works  I  have  undertaken  the 
revision,  may  now  begin  to  assume  the  dignity  of 
an  ancient,  and  claim  the  privilege  of  an  established 
fame  and  prescriptive  veneration.  He  has  long 
outlived  his  century,6  the  term  commonly  fixed  as 
the  test  of  literary  merit.  Whatever  advantages 
lie  might  once  derive  from  personal  allusions,  local 
customs,  or  temporary  opinions,  have  for  many 
years  been  lost ;  and  every  topick  of  merriment 
or  motive  of  sorrow,  which  the  modes  of  artificial 
life  afforded  him,  now  only  obscure  the  scenes 
which  they  once  illuminated.  The  effects  of  favour 
and  competition  are  at  an  end ;  the  tradition  of 
his  friendships  and  his  enmities  has  perished  j  his 
works  support  no  opinion   with  arguments,  nor 

•  "  Est  vetus  atque  probus,  centum  qui  perficit  annos.*'  Hor. 

Stkeven*. 


248         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

supply  any  faction  with  invectives  ;  they  can  nei- 
ther indulge  vanity,  nor  gratify  malignity ;  but  are 
read  without  any  other  reason  than  the  desire  of 
pleasure,  and  are  therefore  praised  only  as  pleasure 
is  obtained ;  yet,  thus  unassisted  by  interest  or 
passion,  they  have  past  through  variations  of  taste 
and  changes  of  manners,  and,  as  they  devolved 
from  one  generation  to  another,  have  received 
new  honours  at  every  transmission. 

But  because  human  judgment,  though  it  be  gra- 
dually gaining  upon  certainty,  never  becomes  in- 
fallible; and  approbation,  though  long  continued, 
may  yet  be  only  the  approbation  of  prejudice  or 
fashion  ;  it  is  proper  to  inquire,  by  what  peculiari- 
ties of  excellence  Shakspeare  has  gained  and  kept 
the  favour  of  his  countrymen. 

Nothing  can  please  many,  and  please  long,  but 
just  representations  of  general  nature.  Particular 
manners  can  be  known  to  few,  and  therefore  few 
only  can  judge  how  nearly  they  are  copied.  The 
irregular  combinations  01  fanciful  invention  may 
delight  awhile,  by  that  novelty  of  which  the  com- 
mon satiety  of  life  sends  us  all  in  quest ;  the  plea- 
sures of  sudden  wonder  are  soon  exhausted,  and 
the  mind  can  only  repose  on  the  stability  of  truth. 

Shakspeare  is  above  all  writers,  at  least  above  all 
modern  writers,  the  poet  of  nature ;  the  poet 
that  holds  up  to  his  readers  a  faithful  mirror  of 
manners  and  of  life.  His  characters  are  not  mo- 
dified by  the  customs  of  particular  places,  unprac- 
tised by  the  rest  of  the  world ;  by  the  peculiarities 
of  studies  or  professions,  which  can  operate  but 
upon  small  numbers;  or  by  the  accidents  of  tran- 
sient fashions  or  temporary  opinions  :  they  are  the 
genuine  progeny  of  common  humanity,  such  as 
.the  world  will  always  supply,  and  observation  will 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         249 

always  find.  His  persons  act  and  speak  by  the  in- 
fluence of  those  general  passions  and  principles  by 
which  all  minds  are  agitated,  and  the  whole  system 
of  life  is  continued  in  motion.  In  the  writings  of 
other  poets  a  character  is  too  often  an  individual ; 
in  those  of  Shakspeare  it  is  commonly  a  specie*. 

It  is  from  this  wide  extension  of  design  that  so 
much  instruction  is  derived.  It  is  this  which  Alls 
the  plays  of  Shakspeare  with  practical  axioms  and 
domestick  wisdom.  It  was  said  of  Euripides,  that 
every  verse  was  a  precept ;  and  it  may  be  said  of 
Shakspeare,  that  from  his  works  may  be  collected 
a  system  of  civil  and  ^economical  prudence.  Yet 
his  real  power  is  not  shown  in  the  splendor  of  par- 
ticular passages,  but  by  the  progress  of  his  fable, 
and  the  tenor  of  his  dialogue ;  and  he  that  tries  to 
recommend  him  by  select  quotations,  will  succeed 
like  the  pedant  in  Hierocles,  who,  when  he  offered 
his  house  to  sale,  carried  a  brick  in  his  pocket  as  a 
specimen. 

It  will  not  easily  be  imagined  how  much  Shak- 
speare excels  in  accommodating  his  sentiments  to 
real  life,  but  by  comparing  him  with  other  authors. 
It  was  observed  of  the  ancient  schools  of  declama- 
tion, that  the  more  diligently  they  were  frequented, 
the  more  was  the  student  disqualified  for  the  world, 
because  he  found  nothing  there  which  he  should 
ever  meet  in  any  other  place.  The  same  remark 
may  be  applied  to  every  stage  but  that  of  Shak- 
speare. The  theatre,  when  it  is  under  any  other 
direction,  is  peopled  by  such  characters  as  were 
never  seen,  conversing  in  a  language  which  was 
never  heard,  upon  topicks  which  will  never  arise  in 
the  commerce  of  mankind.  But  the  dialogue  of 
this  author  is  often  so  evidently  determined  by  the 
incident  which  produces  it,  and  is  pursued  with  so 


2.50        DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

much  ease  and  simplicity,  that  it  seems  scarcely  to 
claim  the  merit  of  fiction,  but  to  have  been  gleaned 
by  diligent  selection  out  of  common  conversation, 
and  common  occurrences. 

Upon  every  other  stage  the  universal  agent  is 
love,  by  whose  power  all  good  and  evil  is  distri- 
buted, and  every  action  quickened  or  retarded. 
To  bring  a  lover,  a  lady,  and  a  rival  into  the  fable; 
to  entangle  them  in  contradictory  obligations,  per- 
plex them  with  oppositions  of  interest,  and  harass 
them  with  violence  of  desires  inconsistent  with 
each  other  ;  to  make  them  meet  in  rapture,  and 
part  in  agony;  to  fill  their  mouths  with  hyperbolical 
joy  and  outrageous  sorrow;  to  distress  them  as  no- 
thing human  ever  was  distressed;  to  deliver  them 
as  nothing  human  ever  was  delivered,  is  the  busi- 
ness of  a  modern  dramatist.  For  this,  probability 
is  violated,  life  is  misrepresented,  and  language  is 
depraved.  But  love  is  only  one  of  many  passions, 
and  as  it  has  no  great  influence  upon  the  sum  of 
life,  it  has  little  operation  in  the  dramas  of  a  poet, 
who  caught  his  ideas  from  the  living  world,  and 
exhibited  only  what  he  saw  before  him.  He  knew, 
that  any  other  passion,  as  it  was  regular  or  exorbi- 
tant, was  a  cause  of  happiness  or  calamity. 

Characters  thus  ample  and  general  were  not 
easily  discriminated  and  preserved,  yet  perhaps  no 
poet  ever  kept  his  personages  more  distinct  from 
each  other.  Lwill-not  say-with  Pope,  that  every 
speech  may  be  assigned  to  the  proper  speaker,  be- 
cause many  speeches  there  are  which  have  nothing 
characteristical;  but, perhaps,  though  some  maybe 
equally  adapted  to  every  person,  it  will  be  difficult 
to  find  any  that  can  be  properly  transferred  from 
the  present  possessor  to  another  claimant.  The 
choice  is  right,  when  there  is  reason  for  choice. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         251 

Other  dramatists  can  only  gain  attention  by 
hyperbolical  or  aggravated  characters,  by  fabulous 
and  unexampled  excellence  or  depravity,  as  the 
writers  of  barbarous  romances  invigorated  the 
reader  by  a  giant  and  a  dwarf;  and  he  that  should 
form  his  expectation  of  human  affairs  from  the 
play,  or  from  the  tale,  would  be  equally  deceived. 
Shakspeare  has  no  heroes ;  his  scenes  are  occupied 
only  by  men,  who  act  and  speak  as  the  reader 
thinks  that  he  should  himself  have  spoken  or  acted 
on  the  same  occasion :  even  where  the  agency  is 
super-natural,  the  dialogue  is  level  with  life.  Other 
writers  disguise  the  most  natural  passions  and 
most  frequent  incidents ;  so  that  he  who  contem- 
plates them  in  the  book  will  not  know  them  in  the 
world  :  Shakspeare  approximates  the  remote,  and 
familiarizes  the  wonderful ;  the  event  which  he 
represents  will  not  happen,  but  if  it  were  possible, 
its  effects  would  probably  be  such  as  he  has  as- 
signed ;7  and  it  may  be  said,  that  he  has  not  only 
shown  human  nature  as  it  acts  in  real  exigencies, 
but  as  it  would  be  found  in  trials,  to  which  it  can- 
not be  exposed. 

This  therefore  is  the  praise  of  Shakspeare,  that 
his  drama  is  the  mirror  of  life ;  that  he  who  has 
mazed  his  imagination,  in  following  the  phantoms 
which  other  writers  raise  up  before  him,  may  here 
be  cured  of  his  delirious  ecstasies,  by  reading  hu- 
man sentiments  in  human  language ;  by  scenes 
from  which  a  hermit  may  estimate  the  transactions 
of  the  world,  and  a  confessor  predict  the  progress 
of  the  passions. 


"  Quserit  quod  nusquam  est  gentium,  reperit  tamen, 
"  Tacit  illud  verisimile  quod  mcndacium  est." 

Plauti  PseudoiuSy  Act  I.  sc.  iv.     Steevens. 


252        DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

His  adherence  to  general  nature  has  exposed 
him  to  the  censure  of  criticks,  who  form  their  judg- 
ments upon  narrower  principles.  Dennis  and  Ry- 
mer  think  his  Romans  not  sufficiently  Roman ;  and 
Voltaire  censures  his  kings  as  not  completely  royal. 
Dennis  is  offended,  that  Menenius,  a  senator  of 
Rome,  should  play  the  buffoon  ;  and  Voltaire  per- 
haps thinks  decency  violated  when  the  Danish 
usurper  is  represented  as  a  drunkard.  But  Shak- 
speare  always  makes  nature  predominate  over  ac- 
cident ;  and  if  he  preserves  the  essential  character, 
is  not  very  careful  of  distinctions  superinduced  and 
adventitious.  His  story  requires  Romans  or  kings, 
but  he  thinks  only  on  men.  He  knew  that  Rome, 
like  every  other  city,  had  men  of  all  dispositions  ; 
and  wanting  a  buffoon,  he  went  into  the  senate- 
house  for  that  which  the  senate-house  would  cer- 
tainly have  afforded  him.  He  was  inclined  to 
show  an  usurper  and  a  murderer  not  only  odious, 
but  despicable ;  he  therefore  added  drunkenness  to 
his  other  qualities,  knowing  that  kings  love  wine 
like  other  men,  and  that  wine  exerts  its  natural 
power  upon  kings.  These  are  the  petty  cavils  of 
petty  minds;  a  poet  overlooks  the  casual  distinc- 
tion of  country  and  condition,  as  a  painter,  satisfied 
with  the  figure,  neglects  the  drapery. 

The  censure  which  he  has  incurred  by  mixing 
comick  and  tragick  scenes,  as  it  extends  to  all  his 
works,  deserves  more  consideration.  Let  the  fact 
be  first  stated,  and  then  examined. 

Shakspeare's  plays  are  not  in  the  rigorous  and 
critical  sense  either  tragedies  or  comedies,  but 
compositions  of  a  distinct  kind ;  exhibiting  the 
real  state  of  sublunary  nature,  which  partakes  of 
good  arid  evil,  joy  and  sorrow,  mingled  with  endless 
variety  of  proportion  and  innumerable  modes  of 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         253 

combination ;  and  expressing  the  course  of  the 
world,  in  which  the  loss  of  one  is  the  gain  of  an- 
other; in  which,  at  the  same  time,  the  reveller  is 
hasting  to  his  wine,  and  the  mourner  burying  his 
friend;  in  which  the  malignity  of  one  is  sometimes 
defeated  by  the  frolick  of  another;  and  many  mis- 
chiefs and  many  benefits  are  done  and  hindered 
without  design. 

Out  of  this  chaos  of  mingled  purposes  and  ca- 
sualties, the  ancient  poets,  according  to  the  laws 
which  custom  had  prescribed,  selected  some  the 
crimes  of  men,  and  some  their  absurdities  :  some 
the  momentous  vicissitudes  of  life,  and  some  the 
lighter  occurrences  ;  some  the  terrors  of  distress, 
and  some  the  gayeties  of  prosperity.  Thus  rose 
the  two  modes  01  imitation,  known  by  the  names 
of  tragedy  and  comedy,  compositions  intended  to 
promote  different  ends  by  contrary  means,  and  con- 
sidered as  so  little  allied,  that  I  do  not  recollect 
among  the  Greeks  or  Romans  a  single  writer  who 
attempted  both.8 


*  From  this  remark  it  appears,  that  Dr.  Johnson  was  unac- 
quainted with  the  Cyclops  fit  Euripides. 

It  may,  however,  be  observed,  that  Dr.  Johnson,  perhaps, 
was  misled  by  the  following  passage  in  Dryden's  Essay  on  Dra- 
matick  Poesy :  "  Tragedies  and  Comedies  were  not  writ  then  as 
they  are  now,  promiscuously,  by  the  same  person  ;  but  he  w  ho 
found  his  genius  bending  to  the  one,  never  attempted  the  other 
way.  This  is  so  plain,  that  I  need  not  instance  to  you  that  Aris- 
tophanes, Plautus,  Terence,  never  any  of  them  writ  a  tragedy; 
iEschylus,  Euripides,  Sophocles,  and  Seneca,  never  meddled 
with  comedy :  the  sock  and  buskin  were  not  worn  by  the  same 
poet."  And  yet,  to  show  the  uncertain  state  of  Dryden's  me- 
mory, in  his  Dedication  to  his  Juvenal  he  has  expended  at  least 
a  page  in  describing  the  Cyclops  of  Euripides. 

So  intimately  connected  with  this  subject  are  the  following 
remarks  of  Mr.  Twining  in  his  excellent  commentary  on  the 


25*         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

Shakspeare  has  united  the  powers  of  exciting 
laughter  and  sorrow  not  only  in  one  mind,  but  in 


Poetick  of  Aristotle,  that  they  ought  not  to  be  withheld  from  our 
readers. 

"  The  prejudiced  admirers  of  the  ancients  are  very  angry  at 
the  least  insinuation  that  they  had  any  idea  of  our  barbarous 
tragi-comedy.  But,  after  all,  it  cannot  be  dissembled,  that,  if 
they  had  not  the  name,  they  had  the  thing,  or  something  very 
nearly  approaching  to  it.  If  that  be  tragi-comedy,  which  is 
partly  serious  and  partly  comical,  I  do  not  know  why  we  should 
scruple  to  say,  that  the  Alcestis  of  Euripides  is,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  a  tragi-comedy.  I  have  not  the  least  doubt,  that  it 
had  upon  an  Athenian  audience  the  proper  effect  of  tragi- 
comedy ;  that  is,  that  in  some  places  it  made  them  cry,  and  in 
others,  laugh.  And  the  best  thing  we  have  to  hope,  for  the 
credit  of  Euripides,  is,  that  he  intended  to  produce  this  effect. 
For  though  he  may  be  an  unskilful  poet,  who  purposes  to  write 
a  tragi-comedy,  he  surely  is  a  more  unskilful  poet,  who  writes 
one  without  knowing  it. 

"  The  learned  reader  will  understand  me  to  allude  particularly 
to  the  scene,  in  which  the  domestick  describes  the  behaviour  of 
Hercules;  and  to  the  speech  of  Hercules  himself,  which  follows. 
Nothing  can  well  be  of  a  more  comick  cast  than  the  servant's 
complaint.  He  describes  the  hero  as  the  most  greedy  and  ill- 
mannered  guest  he  had  ever  attended,  under  his  master's  hos- 
pitable roof;  calling  about  him,  eating,  drinking,  and  singing, 
in  a  room  by  himself,  while  the  master  and  all  the  family  were  in 
the  height  of  funereal  lamentation.  He  was  not  contented  with 
such  refreshments  as  had  been  set  before  him : 
■  sri  <rcv<ppovujs  l£ejjaro 


'  Ta  itpQvtvxpvTa  £ma- 
r  AAA'  et  Tt  /xij  ppotpev,  X2TPTNEN  ppuv.'' 
Then  he  drinks — 

'  'Etas  eQsppyv'  dvtov  ^^olvol  <p\o% 

'    0»V8' ' 

—crowns  himself  with  myrtle,  and  sings,  AMOY2'  YAAKTX2N— 
and  all  this,  alone.  *  Cette  description,'  says  Fontenelle,  '  est 
si  burlesque,  qu'on  diroit  d'un  crocheteur  qui  est  de  confrairie.' 
A  censure  somewhat  justified  by  Euripides  himself,  who  makes 
the  servant  take  Hercules  for  a  thief: 

'  itavspyov  KAftllA  xa*  AHI2THN  riva.' 

"  The  speech  of  Hercules,  <piKoao(p»vro{  iv  psQr),  as  the  scho- 
liast observes  (v.  776,)  *  philosophizing  in  his  cups,'  is  still  more 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         255 

one  composition.     Almost  all  his  plays  are  divided 
between  serious  and  ludicrous  characters,  and,  in 


curious.  It  is,  indeed,  full  of  the  <p\c,%  o<vs,  and  completely 
justifies  the  attendant's  description.  Nothing  can  be  more  jolly. 
It  is  in  the  true  spirit  of  a  modern  drinking  song ;  recommend- 
ing it  to  the  servant  to  uncloud  his  brow,  enjoy  the  present  hour, 
think  nothing  of  the  morrow,  and  drown  his  cares  in  love  and 
wine : 

*  'OTTOS Tt  vepvov  xa<  fe<ppovri\&>  jSXfttJj  ; 

'  Oo  xpj)  <rKv6purrM,  x.  r.  aA. 

f  AETP'   'EA©*,  ovuif  dv  xai  troQurrspos  ysin). 
'  Ta  fiyijra  irpoLypmr'  6i$as  ftv  fyst  <p'j<riv  ; 
«  OIMAI  ju.£v  'OT-  no© EN  TAP;— aAA*  axsf  pa. 
1  Bportof  dita.cn  x.xr5av6iv  o'pejAfra/, 

*  K'  «x  ear*  Qvyrcuv  o<rri$  £%sTri\arai 
'  Tijv  dvpuv  jxeAAscrav  h  fHiwtrerxi. 


*  EvQpcuve  cavrov  niNE! — rov  xafl  ypepav 

*  B<ov  Aoy<£«  <rov,  ra,  (J'a'AAa,  rr^  rwyrj. 

*  Tj/xa  $e  xau  -njv  -ffXetcrrov  ijJj crr^v  Bewv 

'  KTnPlN  Pporomv x.  r.  A.'  V.  7S3— 812. 

"  If  any  man  can  read  this,  without  supposing  it  to  have  set 
the  audience  in  a  roar,  I  certainly  cannot  demonstrate  that  he 
is  mistaken.  I  can  only  say,  that  I  think  he  must  be  a  very 
grave  man  himself,  and  must  forget  that  the  Athenians  were  not 
a  very  grave  people.  The  zeal  of  Pere  Brumoy  in  defending 
this  tragedy,  betrays  him  into  a  little  indiscretion.  He  says, 
*  tout  cela  a  fait  pcnser  a  quelques  critiques  modernes  que  cctte 
piece  etoit  une  trugi-comedie  ;  chimere  inconnu  aux  anciens. 
Cette  piece  est  du  gout  des  autres  tragedies  antiques.'  Indeed 
they,  who  call  this  play  a  tragi-comedy,  give  it  rather  a  favour- 
able name  ;  for,  in  the  scenes  alluded  to,  it  is,  in  fact,  of  a 
lower  species  than  our  tragi-comedy :  it  is  rather  burlesque  tra' 
gedy;  what  Demetrius  calls  rpotyuiha.  trxigairot.  Much  of  the 
coruick  cast  prevails  in  other  scenes  ;  though  mixed  with  those 
genuine  strokes  of  simple  and  universal  nature,  which  abound  in 
this  poet,  and  which  I  should  be  sorry  to  exchange  for  that  mo- 
notonous and  unafl'ecting  level  of  tragick  dignity,  which  never 
falls,  and  never  rises.  • 

"  I  will  only  mention  one  more  instance  of  this  tragi-comick 
mixture,  and  that  from  Sophocles.     The  dialogue  between  Mi- 


256         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

the  successive  evolutions  of  the  design,  sometimes 

f>roduce  seriousness  and  sorrow,  and  sometimes 
evity  and  laughter. 

nerva  and  Ulysses,  in  the  first  scene  of  the  Ajax,  from  v.  74  to 
88,  is  perfectly  ludicrous.  The  cowardice  of  Ulysses  is  almost 
as  comick  as  the  cowardice  of  Falstaff.  In  spite  of  the  presence 
of  Minerva,  and  her  previous  assurance  that  she  would  effectually 
guard  him  from  all  danger  by  rendering  him  invisible,  when  she 
calls  Ajax  out,  Ulysses,  in  the  utmost  trepidation,  exclaims — 
'  T<  Spag,  Aflava;  /xtj&xju-w;  <r<p'  6%w  »aAsj.' 

*  What  are  you  about,  Minerva? — by  no  means  call  him  out.' 
Minerva  answers — 

'  Oo  <ny  dvety,  pySe  SeiXiav  apeis? 

*  Will  you  not  be  silent,  and  lay  aside  your  fears?' 
But  Ulysses  cannot  conquer  his  fears: — 

•  MH,  nPOS  ©EHN dX\'  kvkv  dpK£iru>  psvtov.' 

*  Don't  call  him  out,  for  heaven's  sake: — let  him  stay  within.' 
And  in  this  tone  the  conversation  continues ;  till,  upon  Minerva's 
repeating  her  promise  that  Ajax  should  not  see  him,  he  consents 
to  stay;  but  in  a  line  of  most  comical  reluctance,  and  with  an 
aside,  that  is  in  the  true  spirit  of  Sancho  Panca : — 

«  MevojjW,'  dr  H©EAON  A' AN  EKT02  ftN  TTXEIN.' 
<  I'll  stay — (aside)  but  I  wish  I  was  not  here.' 
*  J'avoue,'  says  Brumoy,  *  que  ce  trait  n'est  pas  a  la  louange 
d'Ulysse,  ni  de  Sophocle.' 

"  No  unprejudiced  person,  I  think,  can  read  this  scene  with- 
out being  convinced,  not  only,  that  it  must  actually  have  pro- 
duced, but  that  it  must  have  been  intended  to  produce,  the  effect 
of  comedy. 

"  It  appears  indeed  to  me,  that  we  may  plainly  trace  in  the 
Greek  tragedy,  with  all  its  improvements,  and  all  its  beauties, 
pretty  strong  marks  of  its  popular  and  tragi-comick  origin.  For 
T pay  what,,  we  are  told,  was,  originally,  the  only  dramatick  ap- 
pellation; and  when,  afterwards,  the  ludicrous  was  separated 
from  the  serious,  and  distinguished  by  its  appropriated  name  of 
Comedy,  the  separation  seems  to  have  been  imperfectly  made, 
and  Tragedy,  distinctively  so  called,  still  seems  to  have  retained 
a  tincture  of  its  original  merriment.  Nor  will  this  appear 
strange,  if  we  consider  the  popular  nature  of  the  Greek  specta- 
cles. The  people,  it  is  probable,  would  still  require,  even  in  the 
midst  of  their  tragick  emotion,  a  little  dash  of  their  old  satyrick 
fun,  and  poets  were  obliged  to  comply,  in  some  degree,  with 
their  taste."     Turning's  Notes,  pp.  202,  203,  204,  205,  206. 

Steevens. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         257 

That  this  is  a  practice  contrary  to  the  rules  of 
criticism  will  be  readily  allowed ;  but  there  is 
always  an  appeal  open  from  criticism  to  nature. 
The  end  of  writing  is  to  instruct ;  the  end  of 
poetry  is  to  instruct  by  pleasing.  That  the  mingled 
drama  may  convey  all  the  instruction  of  tragedy 
or  comedy  cannot  be  denied,  because  it  includes 
both  in  its  alternations  of  exhibition,  and  ap- 
proaches nearer  than  either  to  the  appearance 
of  life,  by  showing  how  great  machinations  and 
slender  designs  may  promote  or  obviate  one  an- 
other, and  the  high  and  the  low  co-operate  in  the 
general  system  by  unavoidable  concatenation. 

It  is  objected,  that  by  this  change  of  scenes  the 
passions  are  interrupted  in  their  progression,  and 
that  the  principal  event,  being  not  advanced  by  a 
due  gradation  of  preparatory  incidents,  wants  at 
last  the  power  to  move,  which  constitutes  the  per- 
fection of  dramatick  poetry.     This  reasoning  is  so 
specious,  that  it  is  received  as  true  even  by  those 
who  in  daily  experience  feel  it  to  be  false.     The 
interchanges  of  mingled  scenes  seldom  fail  to  pro- 
duce the  intended  vicissitudes  of  passion.     Fiction 
cannot  move  so  much,  but  that  the  attention  may 
be  easily  transferred  ;  and  though  it  must  be  al- 
lowed that  pleasing  melancholy  be  sometimes  in- 
terrupted by  unwelcome  levity,  yet  let  it  be  consi- 
dered likewise,  that  melancholy  is  often  not  pleas- 
ing, and  that  the  disturbance  of  one  man  may  be 
the  relief  of  another  ;  that  different  auditors  have 
different  habitudes  ;  and  that,  upon  the  whole,  all 
pleasure  consists  in  variety. 

The  players,  who  in  their  edition  divided  our  au- 
thor's works  into  comedies,  histories,  and  tragedies, 
seem  not  to  have  distinguished  the  three  kinds,  by 
any  very  exact  or  definite  ideas. 

vol.  i.  s 


258         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

An  action  which  ended  happily  to  the  principal 
persons,  however  serious  or  distressful  through  its 
intermediate  incidents,  in  their  opinion  constituted 
a  comedy.  This  idea  of  a  comedy  continued  long 
amongst  us,  and  plays  were  written,  which,  by 
changing  the  catastrophe,  were  tragedies  to-day, 
and  comedies  to-morrow.9 

Tragedy  was  not  in  those  times  a  poem  of  more 
general  dignity  or  elevation  than  comedy ;  it  re- 
quired only  a  calamitous  conclusion,  with  which 
the  common  criticism  of  that  age  was  satisfied, 
whatever  lighter  pleasure  it  afforded  in  its  progress. 

History  was  a  series  of  actions,  with  no  other 
than  chronological  succession,  independent  on  each 
other,  and  without  any  tendency  to  introduce  and 
regulate  the  conclusion.  It  is  not  always  very 
nicely  distinguished  from  tragedy.  There  is  not 
much  nearer  approach  to  unity  of  action  in  the 
tragedy  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  than  in  the  history 
of  Richard  the  Second.  But  a  history  might  be  con- 
tinued through  many  plays ;  as  it  had  no  plan,  it 
had  no  limits. 

Through  all  these  denominations  of  the  drama, 
Shakspeare's  mode  of  composition  is  the  same  ;  an 
interchange  of  seriousness  and  merriment,  by  which 
the  mind  is  softened  at  one  time,  and  exhilarated  at 
another.  But  whatever  be  his  purpose,  whether  to 
gladden  or  depress,  or  to  conduct  the  story,  with- 
out vehemence  or  emotion,  through  tracts  of  easy 
and  familiar  dialogue,  he  never  fails  to  attain  his 

9  Thus,  says  Downes  the  Prompter,  p.  22  ;  "  The  tragedy  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet  was  made  some  time  after  [l662]  into  a  tragi- 
comedy, by  Mr.  James  Howard,  he  preserving  Romeo  and  Juliet 
alive  ;  so  that  when  the  tragedy  was  revived  again,  'twas  play'd 
alternately,  tragical  one  day,  and  tragi-comical  another,  for  se- 
veral days  together."     Steevens. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.        259 

purpose  ;  as  he  commands  us,  we  laugh  or  mourn, 
or  sit  silent  with  quiet  expectation,  in  tranquillity 
without  indifference. 

When  Shakspeare's  plan  is  understood,  most  of 
the  criticisms  of  Rymer  and  Voltaire  vanish  away. 
The  play  of Hamlet  is  opened,  without  impropriety, 
by  two  centinels ;  Iago  bellows  at  Brabantio's  win- 
dow, without  injury  to  the  scheme  of  the  play, 
though  in  terms  which  a  modern  audience  would 
not  easily  endure  ;  the  character  of  Polonius  is  sea- 
sonable and  useful ;  and  the  Gravediggers  them- 
selves may  be  heard  with  applause. 

Shakspeare  engaged  in  dramatick  poetry  with  the 
world  open  before  him  ;  the  rules  of  the  ancients 
were  yet  known  to  few  ;  the  publick  judgment  was 
unformed  ;  he  had  no  example  of  such  fame  as 
might  force  him  upon  imitation,  nor  criticks  of 
such  authority  as  might  restrain  his  extravagance : 
he  therefore  indulged  his  natural  disposition,  and 
his  disposition,  as  Rymer  has  remarked,  led  him  to 
comedy.  In  tragedy  he  often  writes  with  great  ap- 
pearance of  toil  and  study,  what  is  written  at  last 
with  little  felicity;  but  in  his  comick  scenes,  he 
seems  to  produce  without  labour,  what  no  labour 
can  improve.  In  tragedy  he  is  always  struggling 
after  some  occasion  to  be  comick,  but  in  comedy 
he  seems  to  repose,  or  to  luxuriate,  as  in  a  mode  of 
thinking  congenial  to  his  nature.  In  his  tragick 
scenes  there  is  always  something  wanting,  but  his 
comedy  often  surpasses  expectation  or  desire.  His 
comedy  pleases  by  the  thoughts  and  the  language, 
and  his  tragedy  for  the  greater  part  by  incident  and 
action.  His  tragedy  seems  to  be  skill,  his  comedy 
to  be  instinct.1 

1  In  the  rank  and  order  of  geniuses  it  must,  I  think,  be  al- 
lowed, that  the  writer  of  good  tragedy  is  superior.    And  there- 

s  2 


260        DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

The  force  of  his  comick  scenes  has  suffered  little 
diminution  from  the  changes  made  by  a  century 
and  a  half,  in  manners  or  in  words.     As  his  per- 
sonages act  upon  principles  arising  from  genuine 
passion,  very  little  modified  by  particular  forms, 
their  pleasures  and  vexations  are  communicable  to 
all  times  and  to  all  places ;  they  are  natural,  and 
therefore  durable;  the  adventitious  peculiarities  of 
personal  habits,  are  only  superficial  dies,  bright  and 
pleasing  for  a  little  while,  yet  soon  fading  to  a  dim 
tinct,  without  any  remains  of  former  lustre  ;  and 
the  discrimination  of  true  passion  are  the  colours 
of  nature  ;  they  pervade  the  whole  mass,  and  can 
only  perish  with  the  body  that  exhibits  them.  The 
accidental  compositions  of  heterogeneous  modes 
are  dissolved  by  the  chance  that  combined  them  ; 
but  the  uniform  simplicity  of  primitive  qualities 
neither  admits  increase,  nor  suffers  decay.     The 
sand  heaped  by  one  flood  is  scattered  by  another, 
but  the  rock  always  continues  in  its  place.     The 
stream  of  time,  which  is  continually  washing  the 
dissoluble  fabricks  of  other  poets,  passes  without 
injury  by  the  adamant  of  Shakspeare. 

If  there  be,  what  I  believe  there  is,  in  every 
nation,  a  style  which  never  becomes  obsolete,  a 
certain  mode  of  phraseology  so  consonant  and  con- 
genial to  the  analogy  and  principles  of  its  respec- 
tive language,  as  to  remain  settled  and  unaltered : 
this  style  is  probably  to  be  sought  in  the  common 
intercourse  of  life,  among  those  who  speak  only 
to  be  understood,  without  ambition  of  elegance. 

fore,  I  think  the  opinion,  which  I  am  sorry  to  perceive  gains 
ground,  that  Shakspeare's  chief  and  predominant  talent  lay  in 
comedy,  tends  to  lessen  the  unrivalled  excellence  of  our  divine 
bard.    J.  Warton. 

See  Vol.  XIX.  p.  529,  for  Philips's  remark  on  this  subject. 

Steevens, 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.        261 

The  polite  are  always  catching  modish  innovations, 
and  the  learned  depart  from  established  forms  of 
speech,  in  hope  of  finding  or  making  better;  those 
who  wish  for  distinction  forsake  the  vulgar,  when 
the  vulgar  is  right ;  but  there  is  a  conversation 
above  grossness  and  below  refinement,  where  pro- 
priety resides,  and  where  this  poet  seems  to  have 
gathered  his  comick  dialogue.  He  is  therefore 
more  agreeable  to  the  ears  of  the  present  age  than 
any  other  author  equally  remote,  and  among  his 
other  excellencies  deserves  to  be  studied  as  one  of 
the  original  masters  of  our  language. 

These  observations  are  to  be  considered  not  as 
unexceptionably  constant,  but  as  containing  ge- 
neral and  predominant  truth.  Shakspeare's  familiar 
dialogue  is  affirmed  to  be  smooth  and  clear,  yet 
not  wholly  without  ruggedness  or  difficulty ;  as 
a  country  may  be  eminently  fruitful,  though  it 
has  spots  unfit  for  cultivation :  his  characters  are 
praised  as  natural,  though  their  sentiments  are 
sometimes  forced,  and  their  actions  improbable; 
as  the  earth  upon  the  whole  is  spherical,  though 
its  surface  is  varied  with  protuberances  and  ca- 
vities. 

Shakspeare  with  his  excellencies  has  likewise 
faults,  and  faults  sufficient  to  obscure  and  over- 
whelm any  other  merit.  I  shall  show  them  in  the 
proportion  in  which  they  appear  to  me,  without 
envious  malignity  or  superstitious  veneration.    No 

auestion  can  be  more  innocently  discussed  than  a 
ead  poet's  pretensions  to  renown;  and  little  re- 
gard is  due  to  that  bigotry  which  sets  candour 
higher  than  truth. 

His  first  defect  is  that  to  which  may  be  imputed 
most  of  the  evil  in  books  or  in  men.  He  sacrifices 
virtue  to  convenience,  and  is  so  much  more  careful 
to  please  than  to  instruct,  that  he  seems  to  writs 


262        DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

without  any  moral  purpose.  From  his  writings  in- 
deed a  system  of  social  duty  may  be  selected,  for  he 
that  thinks  reasonably  must  think  morally;  but  his 
precepts  and  axioms  drop  casually  from  him ;  he 
makes  no  just  distribution  of  good  or  evil,  nor  is 
always  careful  to  show  in  the  virtuous  a  disappro- 
bation of  the  wicked  ;  he  carries  his  persons  indif- 
ferently through  right  and  wrong,  and  at  the  close 
dismisses  them  without  further  care,  and  leaves 
their  examples  to  operate  by  chance.  This  fault 
the  barbarity  of  his  age  cannot  extenuate ;  for  it  is 
always  a  writer's  duty  to  make  the  world  better,  and 
justice  is  a  virtue  independent  on  time  or  place. 

The  plots  are  often  so  loosely  formed,  that  a 
very  slight  consideration  may  improve  them,  and  so 
carelessly  pursued,  that  he  seems  not  always  fully 
to  comprehend  his  own  design.  He  omits  op- 
portunities of  instructing  or  delighting,  which  the 
train  of  his  story  seems  to  force  upon  him,  and  ap- 
parently rejects  those  exhibitions  which  would  be 
more  affecting,  for  the  sake  of  those  which  are 
more  easy. 

It  may  be  observed,  that  in  many  of  his  plays 
the  latter  part  is  evidently  neglected.  When  he 
found  himself  near  the  end  of  his  work,  and  in 
view  of  his  reward,  he  shortened  the  labour  to 
snatch  the  profit.  He  therefore  remits  his  efforts 
where  he  should  most  vigorously  exert  them,  and 
his  catastrophe  is  improbably  produced  or  imper- 
fectly represented. 

He  had  no  regard  to  distinction  of  time  or  place, 
but  gives  to  one  age  or  nation,  without  scruple,  the 
customs,  institutions,  and  opinions  of  another,  at 
the  expence  not  only  of  likelihood,  but  of  possibi- 
lity. These  faults  Pope  has  endeavoured,  with  more 
zeal  than  judgment,  to  transfer  to  his  imagined  in- 
terpolators.    We  need  not  wonder  to  find  Hector 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         26S 

quoting  Aristotle,  when  we  see  the  loves  of  Theseus 
and  Hippolyta  combined  with  the  Gothick  my- 
thology of  fairies.  Shakspeare,  indeed,  was.not  the 
only  violator  of  rhropnlnpry1  for  in  the  same  age 
Sidney,  who  wanted  not  the  advantages  of  learn- 
ing, has,  in  his  Arcadia,  confounded  the  pastoral 
with  the  feudal  times,  the  days  of  innocence,  quiet, 
and  security,  with  those  of  turbulence,  violence, 
and  adventure.2 

In  his  comick  scenes  he  is  seldom  very  success- 
ful, when  he  engages  his  characters  in  reciproca- 
tions of  smartness  and  contests  of  sarcasm ;  their 
jests  are  commonly  gross,  and  their  pleasantry  li- 
centious; neither  his  gentlemen  nor  his  ladies  nave 
much  delicacy,  nor  are  sufficiently  distinguished 
from  his  clowns  by  any  appearance  of  refined  man- 
ners.   Whether  he  represented  the  real  conversa- 


*  As  a  further  extenuation  of  Shakspeare's  error,  it  may  be 
urged  that  he  found  the  Gothick  mythology  of  Fairies  already 
incorporated  with  Greek  and  Roman  story,  by  our  early  transla- 
tors. Phaer  and  Golding,  who  first  gave  us  Virgil  and  Ovid  in 
an  English  dress,  introduce  Fairies  almost  as  often  as  Nymphs 
are  mentioned  in  these  classick  authors.  Thus,  Homer,  in  his 
24th  Iliad: 

"  'Ev  XjituAw,  Ifa  <qclv\  Stdwv  fjxjuifvflu  evvas 
"  NUM*AflN,  aC.T  aup.$  A^eXwiov  ippuxrxvro** 
But  Chapman  translates — 

"  In  Sypilus in  that  place  where  'tis  said 

"  The  goddesse  Fairies  use  to  dance  about  the  funeral  bed 

"  Of  Achelous : ." 

Neither  are  our  ancient  versifiers  less  culpable  on  the  score  of 
anachronisms.  Under  their  hands  the  balista  becomes  a  cannon, 
and  other  modern  instruments  are  perpetually  substituted  for 
such  as  were  the  produce  of  the  remotest  ages. 

It  may  be  added,  that  in  Arthur  Hall's  version  of  the  fourth 
Iliad,  Juno  says  to  Jupiter  : 

" the  time  will  come  that  Totnam  French  shal  turn." 

And  in  the  tenth  Book  we  hear  of  "  The  BastiU,"  "  Lemster 
wooll,"  and  "  The  Byble."     Stekvej«. 


264         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

tion  of  his  time  is  not  easy  to  determine;  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth  is  commonly  supposed  to  have  been  a 
time  of  stateliness,  formality,  and  reserve,  yet  per- 
haps the  relaxations  of  that  severity  were  not  very 
elegant.  There  must,  however,  have  been  always 
some  modes  of  gaiety  preferable  to  others,  and  a 
writer  ought  to  choose  the  best. 

In  tragedy  his  performance  seems  constantly  to 
be  worse,  as  his  labour  is  more.  The  effusions  of 
passion,  which  exigence  forces  out,  are  for  the 
most  part  striking  and  energetick ;  but  whenever 

.  he  solicits  his  invention,  or  strains  his  faculties, 
the  offspring  of  his  throes  is  tumour,  meanness, 
tediousness,  and  obscurity. 

In  narration  he  affects  a  disproportionate  pomp 
of  diction,  and  a  wearisome  train  of  circumlocu- 
tion, and  tells  the  incident  imperfectly  in  many 
words,  which  might  have  been  more  plainly  de- 
livered in  few.  Narration  in  dramatick  poetry  is 
naturally  tedious,  as  it  is  unanimated  and  inactive, 

.  and  obstructs  the  progress  of  the  action  ;  it  should 
therefore  always  be  rapid,  and  enlivened  by  fre- 
quent interruption.  Shakspeare  found  it  an  in- 
cumbrance, and  instead  of  lightening  it  by  bre- 
vity, endeavoured  to  recommend  it  by  dignity  and 
splendour. 

His  declamations  or  set  speeches  are  commonly 
cold  and  weak,  for  his  power  was  the  power  of 
nature ;  when  he  endeavoured,  like  other  tragick 
writers,  to  catch  opportunities  of  amplification,  and 
instead  of  inquiring  what  the  occasion  demanded, 
to  show  how  much  his  stores  of  knowledge  could 
supply,  he  seldom  escapes  without  the  pity  or  re- 
sentment of  his  reader. 

It  is  incident  to  him  to  be  now  and  then  en- 
tangled with  an  unwieldy  sentiment,  which  he  can- 


f 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         265 

not  well  express,  and  will  not  reject ;  he  struggles 
with  it  a  while,  and  if  it  continues  stubborn,  com-     C*)-*, 
prises  it  in  words  such  as  occur,  and  leaves  it  to 
be  disentangled  arid  evolved  by  those  who  have 
more  leisure  to  -bestow  upon  it. 

Not  that  always  where  the  language  is  intricate, 
the  thought  is  subtle,  or  the  image  always  great 
where  the  line  is  bulky ;  the  equality  of  words  to 
things  is  very  often  neglected,  and  trivial  senti- 
ments and  vulgar  ideas  disappoint  the  attention, 
to  which  they  are  recommended  by  sonorous  epi- 
thets and  swelling  figures. 

But  the  admirers  of  this  great  poet  have  most 
reason  to  complain  when  he  approaches  nearest  to 
his  highest  excellence,  and  seems  fully  resolved  to 
sink  them  in  dejection,  and  mollify  them  with  ten- 
der emotions  by  the  fall  of  greatness,  the  danger  of 
innocence,  or  the  crosses  of  love.  What  he  does 
best,  he  soon  ceases  to  do.  He  is  not  long  soft  and 
pathetick  without  some  idle  conceit,  or  contempti- 
ble equivocation.  He  no  sooner  begins  to  move, 
than  he  counteracts  himself;  and  terror  and  pity, 
as  they  are  rising  in  the  mind,  are  checked  and 
blasted  by  sudden  frigidity. 

A  quibble  is  to  Shakspeare,  what  luminous  va- 
pours are  to  the  traveller ;  he  follows  it  at  all  ad- 
ventures ;  it  is  sure  to  lead  him  out  of  his  way,  and 
sure  to  engulf  him  in  the  mire.  It  has  some  malig- 
nant power  over  his  mind,  and  its  fascinations  are 
irresistible.  Whatever  be  the  dignity  or  profundity 
of  his  disquisitions,  whether  he  be  enlarging  know- 
ledge, or  exalting  affection,  whether  he  be  amusing 
attention  with  incidents,  or  enchaining  it  in  sus- 
pense, let  but  a  quibble  spring  up  before  him,  and 
he  leaves  his  work  unfinished.  A  quibble  is  the 
golden  apple  for  which  he  will  always  turn  aside 


266         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

from  his  career,  or  stoop  from  his  elevation.  A 
quibble,  poor  and  barren  as  it  is,  gave  him  such 
delight,  that  he  was  content  to  purchase  it  by  the 
sacrifice  of  reason,  propriety,  and  truth.  A  quibble 
was  to  him  the  fatal  Cleopatra  for  which  he  lost  the 
world,  and  was  content  to  lose  it. 

It  will  be  thought  strange,  that,  in  enumerating 
the  defects  of  this  writer,  I  have  not  yet  mentioned 
his  neglect  of  the  unities ;  his  violation  of  those 
laws  which  have  been  instituted  and  established 
by  the  joint  authority  of  poets  and  of  criticks. 

For  his  other  deviations  from  the  art  of  writing, 
I  resign  him  to  critical  justice,  without  making 
any  other  demand  in  his  favour,  than  that  which 
must  be  indulged  to  all  human  excellence ;  that 
his  virtues  be  rated  with  his  failings :  but,  from  the 
censure  which  this  irregularity  may  bring  upon 
him,  I  shall,  with  due  reverence  to  that  learning 
which  I  must  oppose,  adventure  to  try  how  I  can 
defend  him. 

His  histories,  being  neither  tragedies  nor  come- 
dies, are  not  subject  to  any  of  their  laws;  nothing 
more  is  necessary  to  all  the  praise  which  they  ex- 
pect, than  that  the  changes  of  action  be  so  pre- 
pared as  to  be  understood,  that  the  incidents-  be 
various  and  affecting,  and  the  characters  consistent, 
"  natural,  and  distinct.  No  other  unity  is  intended, 
and  therefore  none  is  to  be  sought. 

In  his  other  works  he  has  well  enough  preserved 
the  unity  of  action.  He  has  not,  indeed,  an  in- 
trigue regularly  perplexed  and  regularly  unra- 
velled ;  he  does  not  endeavour  to  hide  his  design 
only  to  discover  it,  for  this  is  seldom  the  order  of 
real  events,  and  Shakspeare  is  the  poet  of  nature : 
but  his  plan  has  commonly  what  Aristotle  re- 
quires, a  beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end ;  one 


li'uZ&Uso 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         267 

event  is  concatenated  with  another,  and  the  con- 
clusion follows  by  easy  consequence.  There  are 
perhaps  some  incidents  that  might  be  spared,  as  in 
other  poets  there  is  much  talk  that  only  fills  up 
time  upon  the  stage;  but  the  general  system  makes 
gradual  advances,  and  the  end  of  the  play  is  the 
end  of  expectation. 

To  the  unities  of  time  and  place 3  he  has  shown 
no  regard ;  and  perhaps  a  nearer  view  of  the  prin- 
ciples on  which  they  stand  will  diminish  their 
value,  and  withdraw  from  them  the  veneration 
which,  from  the  time  of  Corneille,  they  have  very 
generally  received,  by  discovering  that  they  have 
given  more  trouble  to  the  poet,  than  pleasure  to 
the  auditor. 

The  necessity  of  observing  the  unities  of  time 
and  place  arises  from  the  supposed  necessity  of 
making  the  drama  credible.  The  criticks  hold  it 
impossible,  that  an  action  of  months  or  years  can 
be  possibly  believed  to  pass  in  three  hours;  or  that 
the  spectator  can  suppose  himself  to  sit  in  the 
theatre,  while  ambassadors  go  and  return  between 
distant  kings,  while  armies  are  levied  and  towns 
besieged,  while  an  exile  wanders  and  returns,  or 
till  he  whom  they  saw  courting  his  mistress,  shall 
lament  the  untimely  fall  of  his  son.  The  mind  re- 
volts from  evident  falsehood,  and  fiction  loses  its 


*  — —  unities  of  time  and  place  — ]  Mr.  Twining,  among 
his  judicious  remarks  on  the  poetick  of  Aristotle,  observes,  that 
"  with  respect  to  the  strict  unities  of  time  and  place,  no  such 
rules  were  imposed  on  the  Greek  poets  by  the  criticks,  or  by 
themselves ;  nor  are  imposed  on  any  poet,  either  by  the  nature, 
or  the  i  nd,  of  the  dramatick  imitation  itself." 

Aristotle  does  not  express  a  single  precept  concerning  unity 
of  place.  This  supposed  restraint  originated  from  the  hypercn- 
ticism  of  his  French  commentators.     Steevens. 


268         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

force  when  it  departs  from  the  resemblance  of 
reality. 

From  the  narrow  limitation  of  time  necessarily 
arises  the  contraction  of  place.  The  spectator,  who 
knows  that  he  saw  the  first  Act  at  Alexandria, 
cannot  suppose  that  he  sees  the  next  at  Rome,  at 
a  distance  to  which  not  the  dragons  of  Medea 
could,  in  so  short  a  time,  have  transported  him ; 
he  knows  with  certainty  that  he  has  not  changed 
his  place;  and  he  knows  that  place  cannot  change 
itself;  that  what  was  a  house  cannot  become  a 
plain ;  that  what  was  Thebes  can  never  be  Per- 
sepolis. 

Such  is  the  triumphant  language  with  which  a 
critick  exults  over  the  misery  of  an  irregular  poet, 
and  exults  commonly  without  resistance  or  reply. 
It  is  time  therefore  to  tell  him,  by  the  authority  of 
Shakspeare,  that  he  assumes,  as  an  unquestionable 
principle,  a  position,  which,  while  his  breath  is 
forming  it  into  words,  his  understanding  pro- 
nounces to  be  false.  It  is  false,  that  any  represent- 
ation is  mistaken  for  reality ;  that  any  dramatick 
fable  in  its  materiality  was  ever  credible,  or,  for  a 
single  moment,  was  ever  credited. 

The  objection  arising  from  the  impossibility  of 
passing  the  first  hour  at  Alexandria,  and  the  next 
at  Rome,  supposes,  that  when  the  play  opens,  the 
spectator  really  imagines  himself  at  Alexandria, 
and  believes  that  his  walk  to  the  theatre  has  been 
a  voyage  to  Egypt,  and  that  he  lives  in  the  days 
of  Antony  and  Cleopatra.  Surely  he  that  imagines 
this  may  imagine  more.  He  that  can  take  the 
stage  at  one  time  for  the  palace  of  the  Ptolemies, 
may  take  it  in  half  an  hour  for  the  promontory  of 
Actium.  Delusion,  if  delusion  be  admitted,  has 
no  certain  limitation ;  if  the  spectator  can  be  once 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         269 

persuaded,  that  his  old  acquaintance  are  Alexander 
and  Caesar,  that  a  room  illuminated  with  candles 
is  the  plain  of  Pharsalia,  or  the  bank  ofGranicus, 
he  is  in  a  state  of  elevation  above  the  reach  of 
reason,  or  of  truth,  and  from  the  heights  of  em- 
pyrean poetry,  may  despise  the  circumscriptions 
of  terrestrial  nature.  There  is  no  reason  why  a 
mind  thus  wandering  in  ecstasy  should  count  the 
clock,  or  why  an  hour  should  not  be  a  century  in 
that  calenture  of  the  brains  that  can  make  the 
stage  a  field. 

The  truth  is,4  that  the  spectators  are  always  in 
their  senses,  and  know,  from  the  first  Act  to  the 
last,  that  the  stage  is  only  a  stage,  and  that  the 
players  are  only  players.  They  come  to  hear  a 
certain  number  of  lines  recited,  with  just  gesture 
and  elegant  modulation.  The  lines  relate  to  some 
action,  and  an  action  must  be  in  some  place ;  but 
the  different  actions  that  complete  a  story  may  be 
in  places  very  remote  from  each  other ;  and  where 
is  the  absurdity  of  allowing  that  space  to  represent 
first  Athens,  and  then  Sicily,  which  was  always 
known  to  be  neither  Sicily  nor  Athens,  but  a  mo- 
dern theatre?  < 

By  supposition,  as  place  is  introduced/time  may 
be  extended;  the  time  required  by  the  fable  elapses 
for  the  most  part  between  the  acts;  for,  of  so  much 

*  So  in  the  Epistle  Dedicatory  to  Dryden's  Love  Triumphant : 
"  They  who  will  not  allow  this  liberty  to  a  poet,  make  it  a  very 
ridiculous  thing,  for  an  audience  to  suppose  themselves  some- 
times to  be  in  a  field,  sometimes  in  a  garden,  and  at  other  times 
in  a  chamber.  There  are  not,  indeed,  so  many  absurdities  in 
their  supposition,  as  in  ours ;  but  'tis  an  original  absurdity  for  the 
audience  to  suppose  themselves  to  be  in  any  other  place,  than  in 
the  very  theatre  in  which  they  sit ;  which  is  neither  a  chamber, 
nor  garden,  nor  yet  a  publick  place  of  any  business  but  that  of 
the  representation. "     Steevens. 


270        DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

of  the  action  as  is  represented,  the  real  and  poetical 
duration  is  the  same.  If,  in  the  first  Act,  prepa- 
rations for  war  against  Mithridates  are  represented 
to  be  made  in  Rome,  the  event  of  the  war  may, 
without  absurdity,  be  represented,  in  the  cata- 
strophe, as  happening  in  Pontus ;  we  know  that 
there  is  neither  war,  nor  preparation  for  war ;  we 
know  that  we  are  neither  in  Rome  nor  Pontus ; 
that  neither  Mithridates  nor  Lucullus  are  before  us. 
The  drama  exhibits  successive  imitations  of  suc- 
cessive actions,  and  why  may  not  the  second  imita- 
tion represent  an  action  that  happened  years  after 
the  first ;  if  it  be  so  connected  with  it,  that  nothing 
but  time  can  be  supposed  to  intervene  ?  Time  is, 
of  all  modes  of  existence,  most  obsequious  to  the 
imagination  ;  a  lapse  of  years  is  as  easily  conceived 
as  a  passage  of  hours.  In  contemplation  we  easily 
contract  the  time  of  real  actions,  and  therefore 
willingly  permit  it  to  be  contracted  when  we  only 
see  their  imitation. 

It  will  be  asked,  how  the  drama  moves,  if  it  is 
not  credited.  It  is  credited  with  all  the  credit  due 
to  a  drama.  It  is  credited,  whenever  it  moves,  as 
a  just  picture  of  a  real  original;  as  representing  to 
the  auditor  what  he  would  himself  feel,  if  he  were 
to  do  or  suffer  what  is  there  feigned  to  be  suffered 
or  to  be  done.  The  reflection  that  strikes  the  heart 
is  not,  that  the  evils  before  us  are  real  evils,  but 
that  they  are  evils  to  which  we  ourselves  may  be 
exposed.  If  there  be  any  fallacy,  it  is  not  that  we 
fancy  the  players,  but  that  we  fancy  ourselves  un- 
happy for  a  moment ;  but  we  rather  lament  the 
possibility  than  suppose  the  presence  of  misery,  as 
a  mother  weeps  over  her  babe,  when  she  remem- 
bers that  death  may  take  it  from  her.  The  delight 
of  tragedy  proceeds  from  our  consciousness  of  fie- 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         271 

tion  ;  if  we  thought  murders  and  treasons  real, 
they  would  please  no  more. 

Imitations  produce  pain  or  pleasure,  not  because 
they  are  mistaken  for  realities,  but  because  they 
bring  realities  to  mind.  When  the  imagination  is 
recreated  by  a  painted  landscape,  the  trees  are  not 
supposed  capable  to  give  us  shade,  or  the  fountains 
coolness ;  but  we  consider,  how  we  should  be 
pleased  with  such  fountains  playing  beside  us,  and 
such  woods  waving  over  us.  We  are  agitated  in 
reading  the  history  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  yet  no  man 
takes  his  book  for  the  field  of  Agincourt.  A  dra- 
matick  exhibition  is  a  book  recited  with  concomi- 
tants that  increase  or  diminish  its  effect.  Familiar 
comedy  is  often  more  powerful  on  the  theatre,  than 
in  the  page ;  imperial  tragedy  is  always  less.  The 
humour  of  Petruchio  may  be  heightened  by  gri- 
mace ;  but  what  voice  or  what  gesture  can  hope  to 
add  dignity  or  force  to  the  soliloquy  of  Cato? 

A  play  read,  affects  the  mind  like  a  play  acted. 
It  is  therefore  evident,  that  the  action  is  not  sup- 
posed to  be  real ;  and  it  follows,  that  between  the 
Acts  a  longer  or  shorter  time  may  be  allowed  to 
pass,  and  that  no  more  account  of  space  or  dura- 
tion is  to  be  taken  by  the  auditor  of  a  drama,  than 
by  the  reader  of  a  narrative,  before  whom  may  pass 
in  an  hour  the  life  of  a  hero,  or  the  revolutions  of 
an  empire. 

Whether  Shakspeare  knew  the  unities,  and  re- 
jected them  by  design,  or  deviated  from  them  by 
happy  ignorance,  it  is,  I  think,  impossible  to  de- 
cide, and  useless  to  enquire.  We  may  reasonably 
suppose,  that,  when  he  rose  to  notice,  he  did  not 
want  the  counsels  and  admonitions  of  scholars  and 
criticks,  and  that  he  at  last  deliberately  persisted  in 
a  practice,  which  he  might  have  begun  by  chance. 


272         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

As  nothing  is  essential  to  the  fable,  but  unity  of 
action,  and  as  the  unities  of  time  and  place  arise 
evidently  from  false  assumptions,  and,  by  circum- 
scribing the  extent  of  the  drama,  lessen  its  variety, 
I  cannot  think  it  much  to  be  lamented,  that  they 
were  not  known  by  him,  or  not  observed :  nor,  if 
such  another  poet  could  arise,  should  I  very  vehe- 
mently reproach  him,  that  his  first  Act  passed  at 
Venice,  and  his  next  in  Cyprus.  Such  violations  of 
rules  merely  positive,  become  the  comprehensive 
genius  of  Shakspeare,  and  such  censures  are  suit- 
able to  the  minute  and  slender  criticism  of  Vol- 
taire : 

•*  Non  usque  adeo  permiscuit  imis 
"  Longus  summa  dies,  ut  non,  si  voce  Metelli 
"  Serventur  leges,  malint  a  Caesare  tolli." 

Yet  when  I  speak  thus  slightly  of  dramatick  rules, 
I  cannot  but  recollect  how  much  wit  and  learning 
may  be  produced  against  me;  before  such  authori- 
ties I  am  afraid  to  stand,  not  that  I  think  the  pre- 
sent question  one  of  those  that  are  to  be  decided  by 
mere  authority,  but  because  it  is  to  be  suspected, 
that  these  precepts  have  not  been  so  easily  received, 
but  for  better  reasons  than  I  have  yet  been  able  to 
find.  The  result  of  my  inquiries,  in  which  it 
would  be  ludicrous  to  boast  of  impartiality,  is,  that 
the  unities  of  time  and  place  are  not  essential  to  a 
just  drama,  that  though  they  may  sometimes  con- 
duce to  pleasure,  they  are  always  to  be  sacrificed  to 
the  nobler  beauties  of  variety  and  instruction;  and 
that  a  play,  written  with  nice  observation  of  criti- 
cal rules,  is  to  be  contemplated  as  an  elaborate  cu- 
riosity, as  the  product  of  superfluous  and  ostenta- 
tious art,  by  which  is  shown,  rather  what  is  possible, 
than  what  is  necessary. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         275 

He  that,  without  diminution  of  any  other  ex- 
cellence, shall  preserve  all  the  unities  unbroken, 
deserves  the  like  applause  with  the  architect,  who 
shall  display  all  the  orders  of  architecture  in  a 
citadel,  without  any  deduction  from  its  strength ; 
but  the  principal  beauty  of  a  citadel  is  to  exclude 
the  enemy ;  and  the  greatest  graces  of  a  play  are 
to  copy  nature,  and  instruct  life. 

Perhaps,  what  I  have  here  not  dogmatically  but 
deliberately  written,  may  recall  the  principles  of 
the  drama  to  a  new  examination.  I  am  almost 
frighted  at  my  own  temerity;  and  when  I  estimate 
the  fame  and  the  strength  of  those  that  maintain 
the  contrary  opinion,  am  ready  to  sink  down  in 
reverential  silence ;  as  tineas  withdrew  from  the 
defence  of  Troy,  when  he  saw  Neptune  shaking 
the  wall,  and  Juno  heading  the  besiegers. 

Those  whom  my  arguments  cannot  persuade  to 
give  their  approbation  to  the  judgment  of  Shak- 
speare,  will  easily,  if  they  consider  the  condition 
of  his  life,  make  some  allowance  for  his  igno- 
rance. 

Every  man's  performances,  to  be  rightly  esti- 
mated, must  be  compared  to  the  state  of  tne  age 
in  which  he  lived,  and  with  his  own  particular  op- 
portunities; and  though  to  a  reader  a  book  be  not 
worse  or  better  for  the  circumstances  of  the  author, 
yet  as  there  is  always  a  silent  reference  of  human 
works  to  human  abilities,  and  as  the  enquiry,  how 
far  man  may  extend  his  designs,  or  how  high  he 
may  rate  his  native  force,  is  of  far  greater  dignity 
than  in  what  rank  we  shall  place  any  particular 
performance,  curiosity  is  always  busy  to  discover 
the  instrument*,  as  well  as  to  survey  the  workman- 
ship, to  know  how  much  is  to  be  ascribed  to  origi- 
nal powers,  and  how  much  to  casual  and  adventi- 

VOL.  I.  T 


274         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

tious  help.  The  palaces  of  Peru  or  Mexico  were 
certainly  mean  and  incommodious  habitations,  if 
compared  to  the  houses  of  European  monarchs ; 
yet  who  could  forbear  to  view  them  with  astonish- 
ment, who  remembered  that  they  were  built  with- 
out the  use  of  iron  ? 

The  English  nation,  in  the  time  of  Shakspeare, 
was  yet  struggling  to  emerge  from  barbarity.  The 
philology  of  Italy  had  been  transplanted  hither  in 
the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth ;  and  the  learned 
languages  had  been  successfully  cultivated  by  Lilly, 
Linacre,  and  More ;  by  Pole,  Cheke,  and  Gardi- 
ner; and  afterwards  by  Smith,  Clerk,  Haddon,  and 
Ascham.  Greek  was  now  taught  to  boys  in  the 
principal  schools ;  and  those  who  united  elegance 
with  learning,  read,  with  great  diligence,  the  Ita- 
lian and  Spanish  poets.  But  literature  was  yet  con- 
fined to  professed  scholars,  or  to  men  and  women 
of  high  rank.  The  publick  was  gross  and  dark ; 
and  to  be  able  to  read  and  write,  was  an  accom- 
plishment still  valued  for  its  rarity. 

Nations,  like  individuals,  have  their  infancy.  A 
people  newly  awakened  to  literary  curiosity,  being 
yet  unacquainted  with  the  true  state  of  things, 
knows  not  how  to  judge  of  that  which  is  proposed 
as  its  resemblance.  Whatever  is  remote  from  com- 
mon appearances  is  always  welcome  to  vulgar,  as 
to  childish  credulity ;  and  of  a  country  unenlight- 
ened by  learning,  the  whole  people  is  the  vulgar. 
The  study  of  those  who  then  aspired  to  plebeian 
learning  was  laid  out  upon  adventures,  giants, 
dragons,  and  enchantments.  The  Death  of  Arthur 
was  the  favourite  volume. 

The  mind,  which  has  feasted  on  the  luxurious 
wonders  of  fiction,  has  no  taste  of  the  insipidity  of 
truth.     A  play,  which  imitated  only  the  common 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.  275 

occurrences  of  the  world,  would,  upon  the  ad- 
mirers of  Palmerin  and  Guy  of  Warwick,  have 
made  little  impression  ;  he  that  wrote  for  such  an 
audience  was  under  the  necessity  of  looking  round 
for  strange  events  and  fabulous  transactions,  and 
that  incredibility,  by  which  maturer  knowledge 
is  offended,  was  the  chief  recommendation  of 
writings,  to  unskilful  curiosity. 

Our  author's  plots  are  generally  borrowed  from 
novels;  and  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose,  that  he 
chose  the  most  popular,  such  as  were  read  by 
many,  and  related  by  more ;  for  his  audience  could 
not  have  followed  him  through  the  intricacies  of 
the  drama,  had  they  not  held  the  thread  of  the 
story  in  their  hands. 

The  stories,  which  we  now  find  only  in  remoter 
authors,  were  in  his  time  accessible  and  familiar. 
The  fable  of  As  you  like  it,  which  is  supposed  to 
be  copied  from  Chaucer's  Gamelyn,  was  a  little 
pamphlet  of  those  times;  and  old  Mr.  Cibber  re- 
membered the  tale  of  Hamlet  in  plain  English 
prose,  which  the  criticks  have  now  to  seek  in  Saxo 
Grammaticus. 

His  English  histories  he  took  from  English 
chronicles  and  English  ballads;  and  as  the  ancient 
writers  were  made  known  to  his  countrymen  by 
versions,  they  supplied  him  with  new  subjects  ;  he 
dilated  some  of  Plutarch's  lives  into  plays,  when 
they  had  been  translated  by  North. 

His  plots,  whether  historical  or  fabulous,  are  al- 
ways crowded  with  incidents,  by  which  the  atten- 
tion of  a  rude  people  was  more  easily  caught  than 
by  sentiment  or  argumentation ;  and  such  is  tlie 
power  of  the  marvellous,  even  over  those  who  de- 
spise it,  that  every  man  finds  his  mind  more  strong- 
ly seized  by  the  tragedies  of  Shakspeare  than  of 

t  2 


276         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

any  other  writer;  others  please  us  by  particular 
speeches,  but  he  always  makes  us  anxious  for  the 
event,  and  has  perhaps  excelled  all  but  Homer  in 
securing  the  first  purpose  of  a  writer,  by  exciting 
restless  and  unquenchable  curiosity,  and  compel- 
ling him  that  reads  his  work  to  read  it  through. 

The  shows  and  bustle  with  which  his  plays 
abound  have  the  same  original.  As  knowledge 
advances,  pleasure  passes  from  the  eye  to  the  ear, 
but  returns,  as  it  declines,  from  the  ear  to  the  eye. 
Those  to  whom  our  author's  labours  were  exhi- 
bited had  more  skill  in  pomps  or  processions  than 
in  poetical  language,  and  perhaps  wanted  some 
visible  and  discriminated  events,  as  comments  on 
the  dialogue.  He  knew  how  he  should  most  please; 
and  whether  his  practice  is  more  agreeable  to  na- 
ture, or  whether  his  example  has  prejudiced  the 
nation,  we  still  find  that  on  our  stage  something 
must  be  done  as  well  as  said,  and  inactive  decla- 
mation is  very  coldly  heard,  however  musical  or 
elegant,  passionate  or  sublime. 

Voltaire  expresses  his  wonder,  that  our  author's 
extravagancies  are  endured  by  a  nation,  which  has 
seen  the  tragedy  of  Cato.  Let  him  be  answered, 
that  Addison  speaks  the  language  of  poets,  and 
Shakspeare,  of  men.  We  find  in  Cato  innumerable 
beauties  which  enamour  us  of  its  author,  but  we 
see  nothing  that  acquaints  us  with  human  senti- 
ments or  human  actions;  we  place  it  with  the 
fairest  and  the  noblest  progeny  which  judgment 
propagates  by  conjunction  with  learning;  but 
Othello  is  the  vigorous  and  vivacious  offspring  of 
observation  impregnated  by  genius.  Cato  affords 
a  splendid  exhibition  of  artificial '  and  fictitious 
manners,  and  delivers  just  and  noble  sentiments, 
in  diction  easy,  elevated,  and  harmonious,  but  its 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         277 

hopes  and  fears  communicate  no  vibration  to  the 
heart;  the  composition  refers  us  only  to  the  writer; 
we  pronounce  the  name  of  Cato,  but  we  think  on 
Addison,5 

The  work  of  a  correct  and  regular  writer  is  a 
garden  accurately  formed  and  diligently  planted, 
varied  with  shades,  and  scented  with  flowers :  the 
composition  of  Shakspeare  is  a  forest,  in  which 
oaks  extend  their  branches,  and  pines  tower  in  the 
air,  interspersed  sometimes  with  weeds  and  bram- 
bles, and  sometimes  giving  shelter  to  myrtles  and 
to  roses;  filling  the  eye  with  awful  pomp,  and 
gratifying  the  mind  with  endless  diversity.  Other 
poets  display  cabinets  of  precious  rarities,  mi- 
nutely finished,  wrought  into  shape,  and  polished 
into  brightness.  Shakspeare  opens  a  mine  which 
contains  gold  and  diamonds  in  unexhaustible 
plenty,  though  clouded  by  incrustations,  debased 
by  impurities,  and  mingled  with  a  mass  of  meaner 
minerals. 

It  has  been  much  disputed,  whether  Shakspeare 
owed  his  excellence  to  his  own  native  force,  or 
whether  he  had  the  common  helps  of  scholastick 
education,  the  precepts  of  critical  science,  and  the 
examples  of  ancient  authors. 

There  has  always  prevailed  a  tradition,  that 
Shakspeare  wanted  learning,  that  he  had  no  regular 
education,  nor  much  skill  in  the  dead  languages. 
Jonson,  his  friend,  affirms,  that  he  had  small  Latin, 
and  less  Greek ;  who,  besides  that  he  had  no  ima- 
ginable temptation  to  falsehood,  wrote  at  a  time 
when  the  character  and  acquisitions  of  Shakspeare 
were  known  to  multitudes.     His  evidence  ought 

*  See  Mr.  Twining's  commentary  on  Aristotle,  note  SI. 

Steevens. 


278         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

therefore  to  decide  the  controversy,  unless  some 
testimony  of  equal  force  could  be  opposed. 

Some  have  imagined,  that  they  have  discovered 
deep  learning  in  imitation  of  old  writers ;  but  the 
examples  which  I  have  known  urged,  were  drawn 
from  books  translated  in  his  time ;  or  were  such 
easy  coincidences  of  thought,  as  will  happen  to  all 
who  consider  the  same  subjects ;  or  such  remarks 
on  life  or  axioms  of  morality  as  float  in  conversa- 
tion, and  are  transmitted  through  the  world  in 
proverbial  sentences. 

I  have  found  it  remarked,  that,  in  this  important 
sentence,  Go  before,  I'll  follow,  we  read  a  transla- 
tion of,  I  prae  sequar.  I  have  been  told,  that 
when  Caliban,  after  a  pleasing  dream,  says,  I  cried 
to  sleep  again,  the  author  imitates  Anacreon,  who 
had,  like  every  other  man,  the  same  wish  on  the 
same  occasion. 

There  are  a  few  passages  which  may  pass  for 
imitations,  but  so  few,  that  the  exception  only 
confirms  the  rule;  he  obtained  them  from  acci- 
dental quotations,  or  by  oral  communication,  and 
as  he  used  what  he  had,  would  have  used  more  if 
he  had  obtained  it. 

The  Comedy  of  Errors  is  confessedly  taken  from 
the  Mencechmi  of  Plautus;  from  the  only  play  of 
Plautus  which  was  then  in  English.  What  can  be 
more  probable,  than  that  he  who  copied  that, 
would  have  copied  more;  but  that  those  which 
were  not  translated  were  inaccessible  ? 

Whether  he  knew  the  modern  languages  is  un- 
certain. That  his  plays  have  some  French  scenes 
proves  but  little ;  he  might  easily  procure  them  to 
be  written,  and  probably,  even  though  he  had 
known  the  language  in  the  common  degree,  he 
could  not  have  written  it  without  assistance.  In  the 


<£tf 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         279 

story  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  he  is  observed  to  have 
followed  the  English  translation,  where  it  deviates 
from  the  Italian ;  but  this  on  the  other  part  proves 
nothing  against  his  knowledge  of  the  original.  He 
was  to  copy,  not  what  he  knew  himself,  but  what 
was  known  to  his  audience. 

It  is  most  likely  that  he  had  learned  Latin  suf- 
ficiently to  make  him  acquainted  with  construction, 
but  that  he  never  advanced  to  an  easy  perusal  of 
the  Roman  authors.  Concerning  his  skill  in  mo- 
dern languages,  I  can  find  no  sufficient  ground  of 
determination  ;  but  as  no  imitations  of  French  or 
Italian  authors  have  been  discovered,  though  the 
Italian  poetry  was  then  in  high  esteem,  I  am  in- 
clined to  believe,  that  he  read  little  more  than 
English,  and  chose  for  his  fables  only  such  tales  as 
he  found  translated. 

That  much  knowledge  is  scattered  over  his 
works  is  very  justly  observed  by  Pope,  but  it  is 
often  such  knowledge  as  books  did  not  supply. 
He  that  will  understand  Shakspeare,  must  not  be 
content  to  study  him  in  the  closet,  he  must  look 
for  his  meaning  sometimes  among  the  sports  of  the 
field,  and  sometimes  among  the  manufactures  of 
the  shop. 

There  is,  however,  proof  enough  that  he  was  a 
very  diligent  reader,  nor  was  our  language  then  so 
indigent  of  books,  but  that  he  might  very  liberally 
indulge  his  curiosity  without  excursion  into  foreign 
literature.  Many  of  the  Roman  authors  were 
translated,  and  some  of  the  Greek  ;  the  Reforma- 
tion had  filled  the  kingdom  with  theological 
learning*  most  of  the  topicks  of  human  disquisition 
had  found  English  writers ;  and  poetry  had  been 
cultivated,  not  only  with  diligence,  but  success. 
This  was  a  stock  of  knowledge  sufficient  for  a 


280         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

mind  so  capable  of  appropriating    and  improv- 
ing it. 

But  the  greater  part  of  his  excellence  was  the 
product  of  his  own  genius.  He  found  the  English 
stage  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  rudeness ;  no  essays 
either  in  tragedy  or  comedy  had  appeared,  from 
which  it  could  be  discovered  to  what  degree  of 
delight  either  one  or  other  might  be  carried. 
Neither  character  nor  dialogue  were  yet  under- 
stood. Shakspeare  may  be  truly  said  to  have  in- 
troduced them  both  amongst  us,  and  in  some  of 
his  happier  scenes  to  have  carried  them  both  to 
the  utmost  height. 

By  what  gradations  of  improvement  he  pro- 
ceeded, is  not  easily  known ;  for  the  chronology 
of  his  works  is  yet  unsettled.  Rowe  is  of  opinion, 
that  perhaps  we  are  not  to  look  for  his  beginning, 
like  those  of  other  writers,  in  his  least  perfect  works; 
art  had  so  little,  and  nature  so  large  a  share  in 
what  he  did,  that  for  aught  I  know,  says  he,  the 
performances  of  his  youth,  as  they  were  the  most  vi- 
gorous, were  the  best.  But  the  power  of  nature  is 
only  the  power  of  using  to  any  certain  purpose  the 
materials  which  diligence  procures,  or  opportunity 
supplies.  Nature  gives  no  man  knowledge,  and 
when  images  are  collected  by  study  and  experience, 
can  only  assist  in  combining  or  applying  them. 
Shakspeare,  however  favoured  by  nature,  could  im- 
part only  what  he  had  learned ;  and  as  he  must 
increase  his  ideas,  like  other  mortals,  by  gradual 
acquisition,  he,  like  them,  grew  wiser  as  he  grew 
older,  could  display  life  better,  as  he  knew  it  more, 
and  instruct  with  more  efficacy,  as  he  was  himself 
more  amply  instructed. 

There  is  a  vigilance  of  observation  and  accuracy 
of  distinction  which  books  and  precepts  cannot 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         281 

confer;  from  this  almost  all  original  and  native 
excellence  proceeds.  Shakspeare  must  have  looked 
upon  mankind  with  perspicacity,  in  the  highest  de- 
gree curious  and  attentive.  Other  writers  borrow 
their  characters  from  preceding  writers,  and  diver- 
sify them  only  by  the  accidental  appendages  of 
present  manners  ;  the  dress  is  a  little  varied,  but 
the  body  is  the  same.  Our  author  had  both  matter 
and  form  to  provide;  for,  except  the  characters  of 
Chaucer,  to  whom  I  think  he  is  not  much  indebted, 
there  were  no  writers  in  English,  and  perhaps  not 
many  in  other  modern  languages,  which  snowed 
life  in  its  native  colours. 

The  contest  about  the  original  benevolence  or 
malignity  of  man  had  not  yet  commenced.  Spe- 
culation had  not  yet  attempted  to  analyse  the  mind, 
to  trace  the  passions  to  their  sources,  to  unfold  the 
seminal  principles  of  vice  and  virtue,  or  sound  the 
depths  of  the  heart  for  the  motives  of  action.  All 
those  enquiries,  which  from  that  time  that  human 
nature  became  the  fashionable  study,  have  been 
made  sometimes  with  nice  discernment,  but  often 
with  idle  subtilty,  were  yet  unattempted.  The 
tales,  with  which  the  infancy  of  learning  was  sa- 
tisfied, exhibited  only  the  superficial  appearances 
of  action,  related  the  events,  but  omitted  the 
causes,  and  were  formed  for  such  as  delighted  in 
wonders  rather  than  in  truth.  Mankind  was  not 
then  to  be  studied  in  the  closet;  he  that  would 
know  the  world,  was  under  the  necessity  of  glean- 
ing his  own  remarks,  by  mingling  as  he  could  in 
its  business  and  amusements. 

Boyle  congratulated  himself  upon  his  high  birth, 
because  it  favoured  his  curiosity,  by  facilitating  his 
access.  Shakspeare  had  no  such  advantage ;  he 
came  to  London  a  needy  adventurer,  and  lived  for 
a  time  by  very  mean  employments.     Many  works 


<282         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

of  genius  and  learning  have  been  performed  in 
states  of  life  that  appear  very  little  favourable  to 
thought  or  to  enquiry;  so  many,  that  he  who  con- 
siders them  is  inclined  to  think  that  he  sees  en- 
terprize  and  perseverance  predominating  over  all 
external  agency,  and  bidding  help  and  hindrance 
vanish  before  them.  The  genius  of  Shakspeare  was 
not  to  be  depressed  by  the  weight  of  poverty,  nor 
limited  by  the  narrow  conversation  to  which  men 
in  want  are  inevitably  condemned ;  the  incum- 
brances of  his  fortune  were  shaken  from  his  mind, 
as  dew-drops  from  a  lion's  mane. 

Though  he  had  so  many  difficulties  to  encounter, 
and  so  little  assistance  to  surmount  them,  he  has 
been  able  to  obtain  an  exact  knowledge  of  many 
modes  of  life,  and  many  casts  of  native  dispositions; 
to  vary  them  with  great  multiplicity;  to  mark  them 
by  nice  distinctions ;  and  to  show  them  in  full  view 
by  proper  combinations.  In  this  part  of  his  per- 
formances he  had  none  to  imitate,  but  has  himself 
"been  imitated  by  all  succeeding  writers ;  and  it 
may  be  doubted,  whether  from  all  his  successors 
more  maxims  of  theoretical  knowledge,  or  more 
rules  of  practical  prudence,  can  be  collected,  than 
he  alone  has  given  to  his  country. 

Nor  was  his  attention  confined  to  the  actions  of 
men;  he  was  an  exact  surveyor  of  the  inanimate 
world;  his  descriptions  have  always  some  pecu- 
liarities, gathered  by  contemplating  things  as  they 
really  exist.  It  may  be  observed,  that  the  oldest 
poets  of  many  nations  preserve  their  reputation, 
and  that  the  following  generations  of  wit,  after  a 
short  celebrity,  sink  into  oblivion.  The  first,  who- 
ever they  be,  must  take  their  sentiments  and  de- 
scriptions immediately  from  knowledge ;  the  re- 
semblance is  therefore  just,  their  descriptions  are 
verified  by  every  eye,  and  their  sentiments  ac- 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         283 

knowledged  by  ever)7  breast.  Those  whom  their 
fame  invites  to  the  same  studies,  copy  partly 
them,  and  partly  nature,  till  the  books  of  one  age 
gain  such  authority,  as  to  stand  in  the  place  of 
nature  to  another,  and  imitation,  always  deviating 
a  little,  becomes  at  last  capricious  and  casual. 
Shakspeare,  whether  life  or  nature  be  his  subject, 
shows  plainly,  that  he  has  seen  with  his  own 
eyes ;  lie  gives  the  image  which  he  receives,  not 
weakened  or  distorted  by  the  intervention  of  any 
other  mind;  the  ignorant  feel  his  representa- 
tions to  be  just,  and  the  learned  see  that  they  are 
complete. 

Perhaps  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  any  author, 
except  Homer,  who  invented  so  much  as  Shak- 
speare, who  so  much  advanced  the  studies  which 
he  cultivated,  or  effused  so  much  novelty  upon  his 
age  or  country.  The  form,  the  character,  the  lan- 
guage, and  the  shows  of  the  English  drama  are  his. 
He  seems,  says  Dennis,  to  have  been  the  very  ori- 
ginal of  our  English  tragical  harmony,  that  is,  the 
harmony  of  blank  verse,  diversified  often  by  dissylla- 
ble and  trissyllable  terminations.  For  the  diversity 
distinguishes  it  from  heroick  harmony,  and  by  bring- 
ing it  nearer  to  common  use  makes  it  more  proper  to 
gain  attention,  and  more  fit  for  action  and  dialogue. 
Such  verse  we  make  when  we  are  waiting  prose;  we 
make  such  verse  in  common  conversation.6 


'  Thus,  also,  Dryden,  in  the  Epistle  Dedicatory  to  his  Rival 
Ladies:  '*  Shakespear  (who  with  some  errors  not  to  be  avoided 
in  that  age,  had,  undoubtedly,  a  larger  soul  of  poesie  than  ever 
any  of  our  nation)  was  the  first,  who,  to  shun  the  pains  of  con- 
tinual rhyming,  invented  that  kind  of  writing  which  we  call 
blank  verse,  but  the  French  more  properly,  prose  mesurte ;  into 
which  the  English  tongue  so  naturally  slides,  that  in  writing 
prose  'tis  hardly  to  be  avoided."     Steevens. 


/ 


284         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

I  know  not  whether  this  praise  is  rigorously  just. 
The  dissyllable  termination,  which  the  critick 
rightly  appropriates  to  the  drama,  is  to  be  found, 
though,  I  think,  not  in  Gorboduc,  which  is  con- 
fessedly before  our  author ;  yet  in  Hieronymo,7  of 
which  the  date  is  not  certain,  but  which  there  is 
reason  to  believe  at  least  as  old  as  his  earliest  plays. 
This  however  is  certain,  that  he  is  the  first  who 
taught  either  tragedy  or  comedy  to  please,  there 
being  no  theatrical  piece  of  any  older  writer,  of 
which  the  name  is  known,  except  to  antiquaries 
and  collectors  of  books,  which  are  sought  because 
they  are  scarce,  and  would  not  have  been  scarce, 
had  they  been  much  esteemed. 

To  him  we  must  ascribe  the  praise,  unless  Spenser 
may  divide  it  with  him,  of  having  first  discovered 
to  how  much  smoothness  and  harmony  the  English 
language  could  be  softened.  He  has  speeches, 
perhaps  sometimes  scenes,  which  have  all  the  de- 
licacy of  Rowe,  without  his  effeminacy.  He  en- 
deavours indeed  commonly  to  strike  by  the  force 
and  vigour  of  his  dialogue,  but  he  never  executes 
his  purpose  better,  than  when  he  tries  to  sooth  by 
softness. 

Yet  it  must  be  at  last  confessed,  that  as  we  owe 
every  thing  to  him,  he  owes  something  to  us;  that, 
if  much  of  his  praise  is  paid  by  perception  and 
judgment,  much  is  likewise  given  by  custom  and 
veneration.  We  fix  our  eyes  upon  his  graces,  and 
turn  them  from  his  deformities,  and  endure  in  him 
what  we  should  in  another  loath  or  despise.  If  we 
endured  without  praising,  respect  for  the  father  of 


7  It  appears  from  the  Induction  of  Ben  Jonson's  Bartholomew 
Fair,  to  have  been  acted  before  the  year  1590.  See  also  Vol.  X. 
p.  344,  n.  3.     Steevens. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         285 

our  drama  might  excuse  us ;  but  I  have  seen,  in 
the  book  of  some  modern  critick,  a  collection  of 
anomalies,  which  show  that  he  has  corrupted  lan- 
guage by  every  mode  of  depravation,  but  which 
his  admirer  has  accumulated  as  a  monument  of 
honour. 

He  has  scenes  of  undoubted  and  perpetual  ex- 
cellence, but  perhaps  not  one  play,  which,  if  it 
were  now  exhibited  as  the  work  of  a  contemporary 
writer,  would  be  heard  to  the  conclusion.  I  am 
indeed  far  from  thinking,  that  his  works  were 
wrought  to  his  own  ideas  of  perfection ;  when  they 
were  such  as  would  satisfy  the  audience,  they  satis- 
fied the  writer.  It  is  seldom  that  authors,  though 
more  studious  of  fame  than  Shakspeare,  rise  much 
above  the  standard  of  their  own  age;  to  add  a  little 
to  what  is  best  will  always  be  sufficient  for  present 
praise,  and  those  who  find  themselves  exalted  into 
fame,  are  willing  to  credit  their  encomiasts,  and  to 
spare  the  labour  of  contending  with  themselves. 

It  does  not  appear,  that  Shakspeare  thought  his 
works  worthy  of  posterity,  that  he  levied  any 
ideal  tribute  upon  future  times,  or  had  any  fur- 
ther prospect,  than  of  present  popularity  and  pre- 
sent profit.  When  his  plays  had  been  acted,  his 
hope  was  at  an  end ;  he  solicited  no  addition  of 
honour  from  the  reader.  He  therefore  made  no 
scruple  to  repeat  the  same  jests  in  many  dialogues, 
or  to  entangle  different  plots  by  the  same  knot  of 
perplexity,  which  may  be  at  least  forgiven  him, 
by  those  who  recollect,  that  of  Congreve's  four 
comedies,  two  are  concluded  by  a  marriage  in  a 
mask,  by  a  deception,  which  perhaps  never  hap- 
pened, and  which,  whether  likely  or  not,  he  did 
not  invent. 

So  careless  was  this  great  poet  of  future  fame, 


286         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

that,  though  he  retired  to  ease  and  plenty,  while  he 
was  yet  little  declined  into  the  vale  of  years,  before 
he  could  be  disgusted  with  fatigue,  or  disabled  by 
infirmity,  he  made  no  collection  of  his  works,  nor 
desired  to  rescue  those  that  had  been  already  pub- 
lished from  the  depravations  that  obscured  them, 
or  secure  to  the  rest  a  better  destiny,  by  giving 
them  to  the  world  in  their  genuine  state.8 

Of  the  plays  which  bear  the  name  of  Shakspeare 
in  the  late  editions,  the  greater  part  were  not  pub- 
lished till  about  seven  years  after  his  death,  and  the 
few  which  appeared  in  his  life  are  apparently  thrust 
into  the  world  without  the  care  of  the  author,  and 
therefore  probably  without  his  knowledge. 

Of  all  the  publishers,  clandestine  or  professed, 
the  negligence  and  unskilfulness  has  by  the  late 
revisers  been  sufficiently  shown.  The  faults  of  all 
are  indeed  numerous  and  gross,  and  have  not  only 
corrupted  many  passages  perhaps  beyond  recovery, 
but  have  brought  others  into  suspicion,  which  are 
only  obscured  by  obsolete  phraseology,  or  by  the 
writer's  unskilfulness  and  affectation.  To  alter  is 
more  easy  than  to  explain,  and  temerity  is  a  more 
common  quality  than  diligence.  Those  who  saw 
that  they  must  employ  conjecture  to  a  certain  de- 
gree, were  willing  to  indulge  it  a  little  further. 
Had  the  author  published  his  own  works,  we 
should  have  sat  quietly  down  to  disentangle  his 
intricacies,  and  clear  his  obscurities ;  but  now  we 
tear  what  we  cannot  loose,  and  eject  what  we  hap- 
pen not  to  understand. 

The  faults  are  more  than  could  have  happened 

8  What  Montaigne  has  said  of  his  own  works  may  almost  be 
applied  to  those  of  Shakspeare,  who  "  n'avoit  point  d'autre  ser- 
gent  de  bande  a  ranger  ses  pieces,  que  la  fortune."    Steevens. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         287 

without  the  concurrence  of  many  causes.  The 
style  of  Shakspeare  was  in  itself  ungrammatical, 
perplexed,  and  obscure ;  his  works  were  tran- 
scribed for  the  players  by  those  who  may  be  sup- 
posed to  have  seldom  understood  them ;  they  were 
transmitted  by  copiers  equally  unskilful,  who  still 
multiplied  errors ;  they  were  perhaps  sometimes 
mutilated  by  the  actors,  for  the  sake  of  shortening 
the  speeches;  and  were  at  last  printed  without 
correction  of  the  press.9 

In  this  state  they  remained,  not  as  Dr.  Warburton 
supposes,  because  they  were  unregarded,  but  be- 
cause the  editor's  art  was  not  yet  applied  to  modern 
languages,  and  our  ancestors  were  accustomed  to 
so  much  negligence  of  English  printers,  that  they 
could  very  patiently  endure  it.  At  last  an  edition 
was  undertaken  by  Rowe ;  not  because  a  poet  was 
to  be  published  by  a  poet,  for  Rowe  seems  to  have 
thought  very  little  on  correction  or  explanation, 
but  that  our  author's  works  might  appear  like  those 
of  his  fraternity,  with  the  appendages  of  a  life  and 

9  Much  deserved  censure  has  been  thrown  out  on  the  care- 
lessness of  our  ancient  printers,  as  well  as  on  the  wretched  tran- 
scripts they  obtained  from  contemporary  theatres.  Yet  I  cannot 
help  observing  that,  even  at  this  instant,  should  any  one  under- 
take to  publish  a  play  of  Shakspeare  from  pages  of  no  greater 
fidelity  than  such  as  are  issued  out  for  the  use  of  performers, 
the  press  would  teem  with  as  interpolated  and  inextricable  non- 
sense as  it  produced  above  a  century  ago.  Mr.  Col  man  (who 
cannot  be  suspected  of  ignorance  or  misrepresentation)  in  his  pre- 
face to  the  last  edition  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  very  forcibly 
styles  the  prompter's  books,  "  the  most  inaccurate  and  barbarous 
of  all  manuscripts."  And  well  may  they  deserve  that  character ; 
for  verse  (as  I  am  informed)  still  continues  to  be  transcribed  as 
prose  by  a  set  of  mercenaries,  who  in  general  have  neither  the 
advantage  of  literature  or  understanding.  Foliis  tantum  ne  car- 
mina  manda,  ne  turbata  volent  ludibria,  was  the  request  of  Vir- 
gil's Hero  to  the  Sybil,  and  should  also  be  the  supplication  of 
every  dramatick  poet  to  the  agents  of  a  prompter.     bTEEVENS. 


288         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

recommendatory  preface.  Rowe  has  been  clamor- 
ously blamed  for  not  performing  what  he  did  not 
undertake,  and  it  is  time  that  justice  be  done  him, 
by  confessing,  that  though  he  seems  to  have  had  no 
thought  of  corruption  beyond  the  printer's  errors, 
yet  he  has  made  many  emendations,  if  they  were 
not  made  before,  which  his  successors  have  received 
without  acknowledgment,  and  which,  if  they  had 
produced  them,  would  have  filled  pages  and  pages 
with  censures  of  the  stupidity  by  which  the  faults 
were  committed,  with  displays  of  the  absurdities 
which  they  involved,  with  ostentatious  expositions 
of  the  new  reading,  and  self-congratulations  on  the 
happiness  of  discovering  it. 

As  of  the  other  editors  I  have  preserved  the 
prefaces,  I  have  likewise  borrowed  the  author's 
life  from  Rowe,  though  not  written  with  much 
elegance  or  spirit;  it  relates,  however,  what  is  now 
to  be  known,  and  therefore  deserves  to  pass  through 
all  succeeding  publications. 

The  nation  had  been  for  many  years  content 
enough  with  Mr.  Rowe's  performance,  when  Mr. 
Pope  made  them  acquainted  with  the  true  state  of 
Shakspeare's  text,  showed  that  it  was  extremely 
corrupt,  and  gave  reason  to  hope  that  there  were 
means  of  reforming  it.  He  collated  the  old  copies, 
which  none  had  thought  to  examine  before,  and 
restored  many  lines  to  their  integrity ;  but,  by  a 
very  compendious  criticism,  he  rejected  whatever 
he  disliked,  and  thought  more  of  amputation  than 
of  cure. 

I  know  not  why  he  is  commended  by  Dr.  War- 
burton  for  distinguishing  the  genuine  from  the 
spurious  plays.  In  this  choice  he  exerted  no  judg- 
ment of  his  own ;  the  plays  which  he  received, 
were  given  to  Hemings  and  Condel,  the  first  edi- 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         289 

tors ;  and  those  which  he  rejected,  though,  ac- 
cording to  the  licentiousness  of  the  press  in  those 
times,  they  were  printed  during  Shakspeare's  life, 
with  his  name,  had  been  omitted  by  his  friends, 
and  were  never  added  to  his  works  before  the  edi- 
tion of  1 664,  from  which  they  were  copied  by  the 
latter  printers. 

This  was  a  work  which  Pope  seems  to  have 
thought  unworthy  of  his  abilities,  being  not  able 
to  suppress  his  contempt  of  the  dull  duty  of  an 
editor.  He  understood  but  half  his  undertaking. 
The  duty  of  a  collator  is  indeed  dull,  yet,  like 
other  tedious  tasks  is  very  necessary;  but  an 
emendatory  critick  would  ill  discharge  his  duty, 
without  qualities  very  different  from  dullness.  In 
perusing  a  corrupted  piece,  he  must  have  before 
him  all  possibilities  of  meaning,  with  all  possibili- 
ties of  expression.  Such  must  be  his  comprehen- 
sion of  thought,  and  such  his  copiousness  of  lan- 
guage. Out  of  many  readings  possible,  he  must  be 
able  to  select  that  which  best  suits  with  the  state, 
opinions,  and  modes  of  language  prevailing  in 
every  age,  and  with  his  author's  particular  cast  of 
thought,  and  turn  of  expression.  Such  must  be 
his  knowledge,  and  such  his  taste.  Conjectural 
criticism  demands  more  than  humanity  possesses, 
and  he  that  exercises  it  with  most  praise,  has  very 
frequent  need  of  indulgence.  Let  us  now  be  told 
no  more  of  the  dull  duty  of  an  editor. 

Confidence  is  the  common  consequence  of  suc- 
cess. They  whose  excellence  of  any  kind  has  been 
loudly  celebrated,  are  ready  to  conclude,  that  their 
powers  are  universal.  Pope's  edition  fell  below  his 
own  expectations,  and  he  was  so  much  offended, 
when  he  was  found  to  have  left  any  thing  for  others 

vol.  i.  u 


290         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

to  do,  that  he  passed  the  latter  part  of  his  life  in  a 
state  of  hostility  with  verbal  criticism.1 

I  have  retained  all  his  notes,  that  no  fragment 
of  so  great  a  writer  may  be  lost ;  his  preface,  valu- 
able alike  for  elegance  of  composition  and  just- 
ness of  remark,  and  containing  a  general  criticism 
on  his  author,  so  extensive  that  little  can  be  added, 
and  so  exact,  that  little  can  be  disputed,  every 
editor  has  an  interest  to  suppress,  but  that  every 
reader  would  demand  its  insertion. 

Pope  was  succeeded  by  Theobald,  a  man  of 
narrow  comprehension,  and  small  acquisitions,  with 
no  native  and  intrinsick  splendor  of  genius,  with 
little  of  the  artificial  light  of  learning,  but  zealous 
for  minute  accuracy,  and  not  negligent  in  pursuing 
it.  He  collated  the  ancient  copies,  and  rectified 
many  errors.  A  man  so  anxiously  scrupulous  might 
have  been  expected  to  do  more,  but  what  little  he 
did  was  commonly  right. 

In  his  reports  of  copies  and  editions  he  is  not 
to  be  trusted  without  examination.  He  speaks 
sometimes  indefinitely  of  copies,  when  he  has  only 
one.  In  his  enumeration  of  editions,  he  mentions 
the  two  first  folios  as  of  high,  and  the  third  folio 


1  The  following  compliment  from  Broome  (says  Dr.' Joseph 
Warton )  Pope  could  not  take  much  pleasure  in  reading  ;  for  he 
could  not  value  himself  on  his  edition  of  Shakspeare : 

"  If  aught  on  earth,  when  once  this  breath  is  fled, 
"  With  human  transport  touch  the  mighty  dead, 
"  Shakspeare,  rejoice!  his  hand  thy  page  refines; 
"  Now  ev'ry  scene  with  native  brightness  shines  ; 
"  Just  to  thy  fame,  he  gives  thy  genuine  thought ; 
*'  So  Tully  published  what  Lucretius  wrote ; 
"  Prun'd  by  his  care,  thy  laurels  loftier  grow, 
"  And  bloom  afresh  on  thy  immortal  brow." 

Broome's  Verses  to  Mr.  Pope.    Steevens. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         291 

as  of  middle  authority;  but  the  truth  is,  that  the 
first  is  equivalent  to  all  others,  and  that  the  rest 
only  deviate  from  it  by  the  printer's  negligence. 
Whoever  has  any  of  the  folios  has  all,  excepting 
those  diversities  which  mere  reiteration  of  editions 
will  produce.  I  collated  them  all  at  the  beginning, 
but  afterwards  used. only  the  first. 

Of  his  notes  I  have  generally  retained  those 
which  he  retained  himself  in  his  second  edition, 
except  when  they  were  confuted  by  subsequent 
annotators,  or  were  too  minute  to  merit  preserva- 
tion. I  have  sometimes  adopted  his  restoration  of 
a  comma,  without  inserting  the  panegyrick  in 
which  he  celebrated  himself  for  his  achievement. 
The  exuberant  excrescence  of  his  diction  I  have 
often  lopped,  his  triumphant  exultations  over  Pope 
and  Rowe  I  have  sometimes  suppressed,  and  his 
contemptible  ostentation  I  have  frequently  con- 
cealed ;  but  I  have  in  some  places  shown  him,  as 
he  would  have  shown  himself,  for  the  reader's 
diversion,  that  the  inflated  emptiness  of  some 
notes  may  justify  or  excuse  the  contraction  of  the 
rest. 

Theobald,  thus  weak  and  ignorant,  thus  mean 
andTaithless,  thus  petulant  and  ostentatious,  by 
the  good  luck  of  having  Pope  for  his  enemy,  has 
escaped,  and  escaped  alone,  with  reputation,  from 
this  undertaking.  So  willingly  does  the  world  sup- 
port those  who  solicit  favour,  against  those  who 
command  reverence ;  and  so  easily  is  he  praised, 
whom  no  man  can  envy. 

Our  author  fell  then  into  the  hands  of  Sir 
Thomas Hanmer,  the  Oxford  editor,  a  man,  in 
my  opinion,  eminently  qualified  by  nature  for  such 
studies.  He  had,  what  is  the  first  requisite  to 
emendatory  criticism,  that  intuition  by  which  the 

u  2 


292         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

poet's  intention  is  immediately  discovered,  and 
that  dexterity  of  intellect  which  despatches  its 
work  by  the  easiest  means.  He  had  undoubtedly 
read  much ;  his  acquaintance  with  customs,  opi- 
nions, and  traditions,  seems  to  have  been  large ; 
and  he  is  often  learned  without  show.  He  seldom 
passes  what  he  does  not  understand,  without  an  at- 
tempt to  find  or  to  make  a  meaning,  and  sometimes 
hastily  makes  what  a  little  more  attention  would 
have  found.  He  is  solicitous  to  reduce  to  grammar, 
what  he  could  not  be  sure  that  his  author  intended 
to  be  grammatical.  Shakspeare  regarded  more  the 
series  of  ideas,  than  of  words  ;  and  his  language, 
not  being  designed  for  the  reader's  desk,  was  all 
that  he  desired  it  to  be,  if  it  conveyed  his  meaning 
to  the  audience. 

Hanmer's  care  of  the  metre  has  been  too  vio- 
lently censured.  He  found  the  measure  reformed 
in  so  many  passages,  by  the  silent  labours  of  some 
editors,  with  the  silent  acquiescence  of  the  rest, 
that  he  thought  himself  allowed  to  extend  a  little 
further  the  licence,  which  had  already  been  carried 
so  far  without  reprehension ;  and  of  his  corrections 
in  general,  it  must  be  confessed,  that  they  are  often 
just,  and  made  commonly  with  the  least  possible 
violation  of  the  text. 

But,  by  inserting  his  emendations,  whether  in- 
vented or  borrowed,  into  the  page,  without  any 
notice  of  varying  copies,  he  has  appropriated  the 
labour  of  his  predecessors,  and  made  his  own  edi- 
tion of  little  authority.  His  confidence,  indeed, 
both  in  himself  and  others,  was  too  great ;  he  sup- 
poses all  to  be  right  that  was  done  by  Pope  and 
Theobald ;  he  seems  not  to  suspect  a  critick  of  fal- 
libility, and  it  was  but  reasonable  that  he  should 
claim  what  he  so  liberally  granted. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         293 

As  he  never  writes  without  careful  enquiry  and 
diligent  consideration,  I  have  received  all  his 
notes,  and  believe  that  every  reader  will  wish  for 
more. 

Of  the  last  editor  it  is  more  difficult  to  speak. 
Respect  is  due  to  high  place,  tenderness  to  living 
reputation,  and  veneration  to  genius  and  learning; 
but  he  cannot  be  justly  offended  at  that  liberty  of 
which  he  has  himself  so  frequently  given  an  ex- 
ample, nor  very  solicitous  what  is  thought  of 
notes,  which  he  ought  never  to  have  considered  as 
part  of  his  serious  employments,  and  which,  I  sup- 
pose, since  the  ardour  of  composition  is  remitted, 
he  no  longer  numbers  among  his  happy  effusions. 

The  original  and  predominant  error,  of  his  com- 
mentary, is  acquiescence  in  his  first  thoughts ; 
that  precipitation  which  is  produced  by  conscious- 
ness of  quick  discernment ;  and  that  confidence 
which  presumes  to  do,  by  surveying  /  the  surface, 
what  labour  only  can  perform,  by  penetrating  the 
bottom.  His  notes  exhibit  sometimes  perverse 
interpretations,  and  sometimes  improbable  con- 
jectures ;  he  at  one  time  gives  the  author  more 
profundity  of  meaning  than  the  sentence  admits, 
and  at  another  discovers  absurdities,  where  the 
sense  is  plain  to  every  other  reader.  But  his  emen- 
dations are  likewise  often  happy  and  just ;  and 
his  interpretation  of  obscure  passages  learned  and 
sagacious. 

Of  his  notes,  I  have  commonly  rejected  those, 
against  which  the  general  voice  of  the  publick  has 
exclaimed,  or  which  their  own  incongruity  imme- 
diately condemns,  and  which,  I  suppose  the  author 
himself  would  desire  to  be  forgotten.  Of  the  rest, 
to  part  I  have  given  the  highest  approbation,  by 
inserting  the  offered  reading  in  the  text ;  part  1 


294         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

have  left  to  the  judgment  of  the  reader,  as  doubt- 
ful, though  specious ;  and  part  I  have  censured 
without  reserve,  but  I  am  sure  without  bitterness 
of  malice,  and,  I  hope,  without   wantonness  of 
insult. 

It  is  no  pleasure  to  me,  in  revising  my  volumes, 
to  observe  bow  much  paper  is  wasted  in  confuta- 
tion.    Whoever  considers  the  revolutions  of  learn- 
ing, and  the  various  questions  of  greater  or  less 
importance,  upon  which  wit  and  reason  have  ex- 
ercised their  powers,  must  lament  the  unsuccess- 
fulness  of  enquiry,  and  the  slow  advances  of  truth, 
when  he  reflects,  that  great  part  of  the  labour  of 
every  writer  is  only  the  destruction  of  those  that 
went  before  him.     The  first  care  of  the  builder  of 
a  new  system  is  to  demolish  the  fabricks  which 
are  standing.      The  chief  desire  of  him  that  com- 
ments an  author,  is  to  show  how  much  other  com- 
mentators have  corrupted  and  obscured  him.    The 
opinions  prevalent  in  one  age,  as  truths  above  the 
reach  of  controversy,  are  confuted  and  rejected  in 
another,  and  rise  again  to  reception  in  remoter 
times.     Thus  the  human  mind  is  kept  in  motion 
without    progress.      Thus    sometimes  truth  and 
error,  and  sometimes  contrarieties  of  error,  take 
each  other's  place  by  reciprocal  invasion.     The 
tide  of  seeming  knowledge  which  is  poured  over 
one  generation,  retires  and  leaves  another  naked 
and  barren ;  the  sudden  meteors  of  intelligence, 
which  for  a  while  appear  to  shoot  their  beams  into 
the  regions  of  obscurity,  on  a  sudden  withdraw 
their  lustre,  and  leave  mortals  again  to  grope  their 
way. 

These  elevations  and  depressions  of  renown,  and 
the  contradictions  to  which  all  improvers  of  know- 
ledge must  for  ever  be  exposed,  since  they  are  not 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         295 

escaped  by  the  highest  and  brightest  of  mankind, 
may  surely  be  endured  with  patience  by  criticks 
and  annotators,  who  can  rank  themselves  but  as 
the  satellites  of  their  authors.  How  canst  thou 
beg  for  life,  says  Homer's  hero  to  his  captive, 
when  thou  knowest  that  thou  art  now  to  suffer 
only  what  must  another  day  be  suffered  by 
Achilles  ? 

Dr.  Warburton  had  a  name  sufficient  to  confer 
celebrity  on  those  who  could  exalt  themselves  into 
antagonists,  and  his  notes  have  raised  a  clamour 
too  loud  to  be  distinct.  His  chief  assailants  are 
the  authors  of  The  Canons  of  Criticism,  and  of  The 
RevisalqfShakspeare's  Text;  of  whom  one  ridicules 
his  errors  with  airy  petulance,  suitable  enough  to 
the  levity  of  the  controversy ;  the  other  attacks 
them  with  gloomy  malignity,  as  if  he  were  dragging 
to  justice  an  assassin  or  incendiary.  The  one  stings* 
like  a  fly,  sucks  a  little  blood,  takes  a  gay  flutter, 
and  returns  for  more;  the  other  bites  like  a  viper, 
and  would  be  glad  to  leave  inflammations  and 
gangrene  behind  him.  When  I  think  on  one,  with 
his  confederates,  I  remember  the  danger  of  Corio- 
lanus,  who  was  afraid  that  girls  with  spits,  and  boys 
with  stones,  should  slay  him  in  puny  battle  ;  when 
the  other  crosses  my  imagination,  I  remember  the 
prodigy  in  Macbeth: 

"  A  falcon  tow'ring  in  his  pride  of  place, 

"  Was  by  a  mousing  owl  hawk'd  at  and  kill'd." 

Let  me  however  do  them  justice.  One  is  a  wit, 
and  one  a  scholar.3    They  have  both  shown  acute- 

1  See  BoswelPs  Life  of  Dr.  Johnson,  Vol.  I.  p.  227,  3d  edit. 

Reed. 
1  It  is  extraordinary  that  this  gentleman  should  attempt  so 


296        DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

ness  sufficient  in  the  discovery  of  faults,  and  have 
both  advanced  some  probable  interpretations  of  ob- 
scure passages;  but  when  they  aspire  to  conjecture 
and  emendation,  it  appears  how  falsely  we  all  esti- 
mate our  own  abilities,  and  the  little  which  they 
have  been  able  to  perform  might  have  taught  them 
more  candour  to  the  endeavours  of  others. 

Before  Dr.  Warburton's  edition,  Critical  Obser- 
vations on  Shakspeare  had  been  published  by  Mr. 
Upton,*  a  man  skilled  in  languages,  and  acquainted 
with  books,  but  who  seems  to  have  had  no  great 
vigour  of  genius  or  nicety  of  taste.  Many  of  his 
explanations  are  curious  and  useful,  but  tie  like- 
wise, though  he  professed  to  oppose  the  licentious 
confidence  of  editors,  and  adhere  to  the  old  co- 
pies, is  unable  to  restrain  the  rage  of  emendation, 
though  his  ardour  is  ill  seconded  by  his  skill. 
Every  cold  empirick,  when  his  heart  expanded 
by  a  successful  experiment,  swells  into  a  theorist, 
and  the  laborious  collator  at  some  unlucky  moment 
frolicks  in  conjecture. 

Critical,  historical,  and  explanatory  Notes  have 
been  likewise  published  upon  Shakspeare  by  Dr. 
— Greyj  whose  diligent  perusal  of  the  old  English 
writers  has  enabled  him  to  make  some  useful  obser- 
vations. What  he  undertook  he  has  well  enough 
performed,  but  as  he  neither  attempts  judicial  nor 
emendatory  criticism, he  employs  rather  his  memory 

voluminous  a  work,  as  the  Revised  of  Shakspeare' s  text,  when  he 
tells  us  in  his  preface,  "  he  was  not  so  fortunate  as  to  be  fur- 
nished with  either  of  the  folio  editions,  much  less  any  of  the 
ancient  quartos :  and  even  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's  performance 
was  known  to  him  only  by  Dr.  Warburton's  representation.'* 

Farmer. 
*  Republished  by  him  in  1748,  after  Dr.  Warburton's  edition, 
with  alterations,  &c.     Stjeevens. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         297 

than  his  sagacity.  It  were  to  be  wished  *hat  all 
would  endeavour  to  imitate  his  modesty,  who  have 
not  been  able  to  surpass  his  knowledge. 

I  can  say  with  great  sincerity  of  all  my  prede- 
cessors, what  I  hope  will  hereafter  be  said  of  me, 
that  not  one  has  left  Shakspeare  without  improve- 
ment, nor  is  there  one  to  whom  I  have  not  been 
indebted  for  assistance  and  information.  What- 
ever I  have  taken  from  them,  it  was  my  intention  to 
refer  to  its  original  author,  and  it  is  certain,  that 
what  I  have  not  given  to  another,  I  believed  when 
I  wrote  it  to  be  my  own.  In  some  perhaps  I  have 
been  anticipated ;  but  if  I  am  ever  found  to  en- 
croach upon  the  remarks  of  any  other  commenta- 
tor, I  am  willing  that  the  honour,  be  it  more  or 
less,  should  be  transferred  to  the  first  claimant,  for 
his  right,  and  his  alone,  stands  above  dispute;  the 
second  can  prove  his  pretensions  only  to  himself, 
nor  can  himself  always  distinguish  invention,  with 
sufficient  certainty,  from  recollection. 

They  have  all  been  treated  by  me  with  candour, 
which  they  have  not  been  careful  of  observing  to 
one  another.  It  is  not  easy  to  discover  from  what 
cause  the  acrimony  of  a  scholiast  can  naturally 
proceed.  The  subjects  to  be  discussed  by  him  are 
of  very  small  importance ;  they  involve  neither 
property  nor  liberty;  nor  favour  the  interest  of 
sect  or  party.  The  various  readings  of  copies,  and 
different  interpretations  of  a  passage,  seem  to  be 
questions  that  might  exercise  the  wit,  without  en- 
gaging the  passions.  But  whether  it  be,  that  small 
tkmgi  make  mean  men  proud,  and  vanity  catches 
small  occasions ;  or  that  all  contrariety  of  opinion, 
even  in  those  that  can  defend  it  no  longer,  makes 
proud  men  angry;  there  is  often  found  in  com- 
mentaries a  spontaneous  strain  of  invective  and 


298         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

contempt,  more  eager  and  venomous  than  is  vent- 
ed by  the  most  furious  controvertist  in  politicks 
against  those  whom  he  is  hired  to  defame. 

Perhaps  the  lightness  of  the  matter  may  conduce 
to  the  vehemence  of  the  agency;  when  the  truth 
to  be  investigated  is  so  near  to  inexistence,  as  to 
escape  attention,  its  bulk  is  to  be  enlarged  by  rage 
and  exclamation :  that  to  which  all  would  be  indif- 
ferent in  its  original  state,  may  attract  notice  when 
the  fate  of  a  name  is  appended  to  it.  A  commen- 
tator has  indeed  great  temptations  to  supply  by 
turbulence  what  he  wants  of  dignity,  to  beat  his 
little  gold  to  a  spacious  surface,  to  work  that  to 
foam  which  no  art  or  diligence  can  exalt  to  spirit. 

The  notes  which  I  have  borrowed  or  written 
are  either  illustrative,  by  which  difficulties  are  ex- 
plained ;  or  judicial,  by  which  faults  and  beauties 
are  remarked ;  or  emendatory,  by  which  deprava- 
tions are  corrected. 

The  explanations  transcribed  from  others,  if  I 
do  not  subjoin  any  other  interpretation,  I  suppose 
commonly  to  be  right,  at  least  I  intend  by  acqui- 
escence to  confess,  that  I  have  nothing  better  to 
propose. 

After  the  labours  of  all  the  editors,  I  found 
many  passages  which  appeared  to  me  likely  to  ob- 
struct the  greater  number  of  readers,  and  thought 
it  my  duty  to  facilitate  their  passage.  It  is  im- 
possible for  an  expositor  not  to  write  too  little  for 
some,  and  too  much  for  others.  He  can  only  judge 
what  is  necessary  by  his  own  experience ;  and  how 
long  soever  he  may  deliberate,  will  at  last  explain 
many  lines  which  the  learned  will  think  impossible 
to  be  mistaken,  and  omit  many  for  which  the  igno- 
rant will  want  his  help.  These  are  censures  mere- 
ly relative,  and  must  be  quietly  endured.     I  have 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         299 

endeavoured  to  be  neither  superfluously  copious, 
nor  scrupulously  reserved,  and  hope  that  I  have 
made  my  author's  meaning  accessible  to  many, 
who  before  were  frighted  from  perusing  him,  and 
contributed  something  to  the  publick,  by  diffusing 
innocent  and  rational  pleasure. 

The  complete  explanation  of  an  author  not 
systematick  and  consequential,  but  desultory  and 
vagrant,  abounding  in  casual  allusions  and  light 
hints,  is  not  to  be  expected  from  any  single  scho- 
liast. All  personal  reflections,  when  names  are  sup- 
Eressed,  must  be  in  a  few  years  irrecoverably  ob- 
terated ;  and  customs,  too  minute  to  attract  the 
notice  of  law,  yet  such  as  modes  of  dress,  formali- 
ties of  conversation,  rules  of  visits,  disposition  of 
furniture,  and  practices  of  ceremony,  which  na- 
turally find  places  in  familiar  dialogue,  are  so  fugi- 
tive and  unsubstantial,  that  they  are  not  easily  re- 
tained or  recovered.  What  can  be  known  will  be 
collected  by  chance,  from  the  recesses  of  obscure 
and  obsolete  papers,  perused  commonly  with  some 
other  view.  Of  this  knowledge  every  man  has 
some,  and  none  has  much ;  but  when  an  author 
has  engaged  the  publick  attention,  those  who  can 
add  any  thing  to  his  illustration,  communicate 
their  discoveries,  and  time  produces  what  had 
eluded  diligence. 

To  time  I  have  been  obliged  to  resign  many  pas- 
sages, which,  though  I  did  not  understand  them, 
will  perhaps  hereafter  be  explained,  having,  I  hope, 
illustrated  some,  which  others  have  neglected  or 
mistaken,  sometimes  by  short  remarks,  or  marginal 
directions,  such  as  every  editor  has  added  at  his 
will,  and  often  by  comments  more  laborious  than 
the  matter  will  seem  to  deserve;  but  that  which  is 
most  difficult  is  not  always  most  important,  and  to 


500        DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

an  editor  nothing  is  a  trifle  by  which  his  author  is 
obscured. 

The  poetical  beauties  or  defects  I  have  not  been 
very  diligent  to  observe.  Some  plays  have  more, 
and  some  fewer  judicial  observations,  not  in  propor- 
tion to  their  difference  of  merit,  but  because  I  gave 
this  part  of  my  design  to  chance  and  to  caprice. 
The  reader,  I  believe,  is  seldom  pleased  to  find  his 
opinion  anticipated;  it  is  natural  to  delight  more  in 
what  we  find  or  make,  than  in  what  we  receive. 
Judgment,  like  other  faculties,  is  improved  by  prac- 
tice, and  its  advancement  is  hindered  by  submis- 
sion to  dictatorial  decisions,  as  the  memory  grows 
torpid  by  the  use  of  a  table-book.  Some  initiation 
is  however  necessary;  of  all  skill,  part  is  infused 
by  precept,  and  part  is  obtained  by  habit ;  I  have 
therefore  shown  so  much  as  may  enable  the  candi- 
date of  criticism  to  discover  the  rest. 

To  the  end  of  most  plays  I  have  added  short 
strictures,  containing  a  general  censure  of  faults, 
or  praise  of  excellence ;  in  which  I  know  not  how 
much  I  have  concurred  with  the  current  opinion; 
but  I  have  not,  by  any  affectation  of  singularity, 
deviated  from  it.  Nothing  is  minutely  and  par- 
ticularly examined,  and  therefore  it  is  to  be  sup- 
posed, that  in  the  plays  which  are  condemned 
there  is  much  to  be  praised,  and  in  these  which 
are  praised  much  to  be  condemned. 

The  part  of  criticism  in  which  the  whole  succes- 
sion of  editors  has  laboured  with  the  greatest  dili- 
gence, which  has  occasioned  the  most  arrogant 
ostentation,  and  excited  the  keenest  acrimony,  is 
the  emendation  of  corrupted  passages,  to  which 
the  publick  attention  having  been  first  drawn  by 
the  violence  of  the  contention  between  Pope  and 
Theobald,  has  been  continued  by  the  persecution, 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         301 

which,  with  a  kind  of  conspiracy,  has  been  since 
raised  against  all  the  publishers  of  Shakspeare. 

That  many  passages  have  passed  in  a  state  of 
depravation  through  all  the  editions  is  indubitably 
certain  ;  of  these,  the  restoration  is  only  to  be  at- 
tempted by  collation  of  copies,  or  sagacity  of  con- 
jecture. The  collator's  province  is  safe  and  easy, 
the  conjecturer's  perilous  and  difficult.  Yet  as  the 
greater  part  of  the  plays  are  extant  only  in  one 
copy,  the  peril  must  not  be  avoided,  nor  the  dif- 
ficulty refused. 

Of  the  readings  which  this  emulation  of  amend- 
ment has  hitherto  produced,  some  from  the  labours 
of  every  publisher  I  have  advanced  into  the  text ; 
those  are  to  be  considered  as  in  my  opinion  suffi- 
ciently supported ;  some  I  have  rejected  without 
mention,  as  evidently  erroneous ;  some  I  have  left 
in  the  notes  without  censure  or  approbation,  as 
resting  in  equipoise  between  objection  and  de- 
fence ;  and  some,  which  seemed  specious  but  not 
right,  I  have  inserted  with  a  subsequent  animad- 
version. 

Having  classed  the  observations  of  others,  I  was 
at  last  to  try  what  I  could  substitute  for  their 
mistakes,  and  how  I  could  supply  their  omissions. 
I  collated  such  copies  as  I  could  procure,  and 
wished  for  more,  but  have  not  found  the  collectors 
of  these  rarities  very  communicative.  Of  the  edi- 
tions which  chance  or  kindness  put  into  my  hands 
I  have  given  an  enumeration,  that  I  may  not  be 
blamed  for  neglecting  what  I  had  not  the  power 
to  do. 

Bv  examining  the  old  copies,  I  soon  found  that 
the  later  publishers,  with  all  their  boasts  of  dili- 
gence, suffered  many  passages  to  stand  unau- 
thorized, and  contented  themselves  with  Rowe's 


302         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

regulation  of  the  text,  even  where  they  knew  it  to 
be  arbitrary,  and  with  a  little  consideration  might 
have  found  it  to  be  wrong.  Some  of  these  altera- 
tions are  only  the  ejection  of  a  word  for  one  that 
appeared  to  him  more  elegant  or  more  intelligible. 
These  corruptions  I  have  often  silently  rectified  ; 
for  the  history  of  our  language,  and  the  true  force 
of  our  words,  can  only  be  preserved,  by  keeping 
the  text  of  authors  free  from  adulteration.  Others, 
and  those  very  frequent,  smoothed  the  cadence,  or 
regulated  the  measure ;  on  these  I  have  not  exer- 
cised the  same  rigour ;  if  only  a  word  was  trans- 
posed, or  a  particle  inserted  or  omitted,  I  have 
sometimes  suffered  the  line  to  stand ;  for  the  in- 
constancy of  the  copies  is  such,  as  that  some  liber- 
ties may  be  easily  permitted.  But  this  practice  I 
have  not  suffered  to  proceed  far,  having  restored 
the  primitive  diction  wherever  it  could  for  any 
reason  be  preferred.  , 

The  emendations,  which  comparison  of  copies 
supplied,  I  have  inserted  in  the  text ;  sometimes, 
where  the  improvement  was  slight,  without  notice, 
and  sometimes  with  an  account  of  the  reasons  of 
the  change. 

Conjecture,  though  it  be  sometimes  unavoidable, 
I  have  not  wantonly  nor  licentiously  indulged.  It 
has  been  my  settled  principle,  that  the  reading  of 
the  ancient  books  is  probably  true,  and  therefore 
is  not  to  be  disturbed  for  the  sake  of  elegance, 
perspicuity,  or  mere  improvement  of  the  sense. 
For  though  much  credit  is  not  due  to  the  fidelity, 
nor  any  to  the  judgment  of  the  first  publishers, 
yet  they  who  had  the  copy  before  their  eyes  were 
more  likely  to  read  it  right,  than  we  who  read  it 
only  by  imagination.  But  it  is  evident  that  they 
have  often  made  strange  mistakes  by  ignorance  or 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         sos 

negligence,  and  that  therefore  something  may  be 
properly  attempted  by  criticism,  keeping  the  mid- 
dle way  between  presumption  and  timidity. 

Such  criticism  I  have  attempted  to  practise,  and 
where  any  passage  appeared  inextricably  perplex- 
ed, have  endeavoured  to  discover  how  it  may  be  re- 
called to  sense,  with  least  violence.  But  my  first 
labour  is,  always  to  turn  the  old  text  on  every  side, 
and  try  if  there  be  any  interstice,  through  which 
light  can  find  its  way;  nor  would  Huetius  himself 
condemn  me,  as  refusing  the  trouble  of  research, 
for  the  ambition  of  alteration.  In  this  modest 
industry,  I  have  not  been  unsuccessful.  I  have 
rescued  many  lines  from  the  violations  of  temerity, 
and  secured  many  scenes  from  the  inroads  of  cor- 
rection. I  have  adopted  the  Roman  sentiment, 
that  it  is  more  honourable  to  save  a  citizen,  than 
to  kill  an  enemy,  and  have  been  more  careful  to 
protect  than  to  attack. 

I  have  preserved  the  common  distribution  of  the 
plays  into  acts,  though  I  believe  it  to  be  in  almost 
all  the  plays  void  of  authority.  Some  of  those 
which  are  divided  in  the  later  editions  have  no 
division. in  the  first  folio,  and  some  that  are  divided 
in  the  folio  have  no  division  in  the  preceding 
copies.  The  settled  mode  of  the  theatre  requires 
four  intervals  in  the  play,  but  few,  if  any,  of  our 
author's  compositions  can  be  properly  distributed 
in  that  manner.  An  act  is  so  much  of  the  drama 
as  passes  without  intervention  of  time,  or  change 
of  place.  A  pause  makes  a  new  act.  In  every 
real,  and  therefore  in  every  imitative  action,  the 
intervals  may  be  more  or  fewer,  the  restriction  of 
five  acts  being  accidental  and  arbitrary.  This 
Shakspeare  knew,  and  this  he  practised  ;  his  plays 
were  written,  and  at  first  printed  in  one  unbroken 


304         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

continuity,  and  ought  now  to  be  exhibited  with 
short  pauses,  interposed  as  often  as  the  scene  is 
changed,  or  any  considerable  time  is  required  to 
pass.  This  method  would  at  once  quell  a  thousand 
absurdities. 

In  restoring  the  author's  works  to  their  inte- 
grity, I  have  considered  the  punctuation  as  wholly 
in  my  power;  for  what  could  be  their  care  of 
colons  and  commas,  who  corrupted  words  and  sen- 
tences? Whatever  could  be  done  by  adjusting 
points,  is  therefore  silently  performed,  in  some 
plays,  with  much  diligence,  in  others  with  less ; 
it  is  hard  to  keep  a  busy  eye  steadily  fixed  upon 
evanescent  atoms,  or  a  discursive  mind  upon  eva- 
nescent truth. 

The  same  liberty  has  been  taken  with  a  few  par- 
ticles, or  other  words  of  slight  effect.  I  have  some- 
times inserted  or  omitted  them  without  notice.  I 
have  done  that  sometimes,  which  the  other  editors 
have  done  always,  and  which  indeed  the  state  of 
the  text  may  sufficiently  justify. 

The  greater  part  of  readers,  instead  of  blaming  us 
for  passing  trifles,  will  wonder  that  on  mere  trifles 
so  much  labour  is  expended,' with  such  importance 
of  debate,  and  such  solemnity  of  diction.  To  these 
I  answer  with  confidence,  that  they  are  judging  of 
an  art  which  they  do  not  understand ;  yet  cannot 
much  reproach  them  with  their  ignorance,  nor 
promise  that  they  would  become  in  general,  by 
learning  criticism,  more  useful,  happier,  or  wiser. 

As  I  practised  conjecture  more,  I  learned  to 
trust  it  less ;  and  after  I  had  printed  a  few  plays, 
resolved  to  insert  none  of  my  own  readings  in  the 
text  Upon  this  caution  I  now  congratulate  my- 
self, for  every  day  encreases  my  doubt  of  my 
emendations. 


DR.  JOHNSONS  PREFACE.         305 

Since  I  have  confined  my  imagination  to  the 
margin,  it  must  not  be  considered  as  very  repre- 
hensible, if  I  have  suffered  it  to  play  some  freaks 
in  its  own  dominion.  There  is  no  danger  in  con- 
jecture, if  it  be  proposed  as  conjecture ;  and  while 
the  text  remains  uninjured,  those  changes  may  be 
safely  offered,  which  are  not  considered  even  by 
him  that  offers  them  as  necessary  or  safe. 

If  my  readings  are  of  little  value,  they  have  not 
been  ostentatiously  displayed  or  importunately  ob- 
truded. I  could  have  written  longer  notes,  for 
the  art  of  writing  notes  is  not  of  difficult  attain- 
ment. The  work  is  performed,  first  by  railing  at 
the  stupidity,  negligence,  ignorance,  and  asinine 
tastelessness  of  the  former  editors,  showing,  from 
all  that  goes  before  and  all  that  follows,  the  in- 
elegance and  absurdity  of  the  old  reading;  then  by 
proposing  something,  which  to  superficial  readers 
would  seem  specious,  but  which  the  editor  rejects 
with  indignation;  then  by  producing  the  true  read- 
ing, with  a  long  paraphrase,  and  concluding  with 
loud  acclamations  on  the  discovery,  and  a  sober 
wish  for  the  advancement  and  prosperity  of  ge- 
nuine criticism. 

All  this  may  be  done,  and  perhaps  done  some- 
times without  impropriety.  But  I  have  always 
suspected  that  the  reading  is  right,  which  requires 
many  words  to  prove  it  wrong;  and  the  emenda- 
tion wrong,  that  cannot  without  so  much  labour 
appear  to  be  right.  The  justness  of  a  happy 
restoration  strikes  at  once,  and  the  moral  precept 
may  be  well  applied  to  criticism,  quod  dubitas  ne 
Jeceris. 

To  dread  the  shore  which  he  sees  spread  with 
wrecks,  is  natural  to  the  sailor.  I  had  before  my 
eye,  so  many  critical  adventures  ended  in  mis- 

vol.  f.  x 


306        DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

carriage,  that  caution  was  forced  upon  me.  I 
encountered  in  every  page  wit  struggling  with  its 
own  sophistry,  and  learning  confused  by  the  mul- 
tiplicity of  its  views.  I  was  forced  to  censure  those 
whom  I  admired,  and  could  not  but  reflect,  while 
I  was  dispossessing  their  emendations,  how  soon 
the  same  fate  might  happen  to  my  own,  and  how 
many  of  the  readings  which  I  have  corrected 
may  be  by  some  other  editor  defended  and  esta- 
blished. 

"  Criticks  I  saw,  that  other's  names  efface, 
"  And  fix  their  own,  with  labour,  in  the  place ; 
"  Their  own,  like  others,  soon  their  place  resign'd, 
"  Or  disappear' d,  and  left  the  first  behind."     Pope. 

That  a  conjectural  critick  should  often  be  mis- 
taken, cannot  be  wonderful,  either  to  others,  or 
himself,  if  it  be  considered,  that  in  his  art.  there 
is  no  system,  no  principal  and  axiomatical  truth 
that  regulates  subordinate  positions.  His  chance 
of  error  is  renewed  at  every  attempt;  an  oblique 
view  of  the  passage,  a  slight  misapprehension  of  a 
phrase,  a  casual  inattention  to  the  parts  connected, 
is  sufficient  to  make  him  not  only  fail,  but  fail 
ridiculously;  and  when  he  succeeds  best  he  pro- 
duces perhaps  but  one  reading  of  many  probable, 
and  he  that  suggests  another  will  always  be  able  to 
dispute  his  claims. 

It  is  an  unhappy  state,  in  which  danger  is  hid 
under  pleasure.  The  allurements  of  emendation 
are  scarcely  resistible.  Conjecture  has  all  the  joy 
and  all  the  pride  of  invention,  and  he  that  has  once 
started  a  happy  change,  is  too  much  delighted  to 
consider  what  objections  may  rise  against  it. 

Yet  conjectural  criticism  has  been  of  great  use 
in  the  learned  world ;  nor  is  it  my  intention  to 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         307 

depreciate  a  study,  that  has  exercised  so  many 
mighty  minds,  from  the  revival  of  learning  to  our 
own  age,  from  the  Bishop  of  Aleria5  to  English 
Bentley.  The  criticks  on  ancient  authors  have, 
in  the  exercise  of  their  sagacity,  many  assistances, 
which  the  editor  of  Shakspeare  is  condemned  to 
want.  They  are  employed  upon  grammatical  and 
settled  languages,  whose  construction  contributes 
so  much  to  perspicuity,  that  Homer  has  fewer 
passages  unintelligible  than  Chaucer.  The  words 
have  not  only  a  known  regimen,  but  invariable 
quantities,  which  direct  and  confine  the  choice. 
There  are  commonly  more  manuscripts  than  one ; 
and  they  do  not  often  conspire  in  the  same  mis- 
takes. Yet  Scaliger  could  confess  to  Salmasius  how 
little  satisfaction  his  emendations  gave  him.  IUu- 
dunt  nobis  conjecture,  quorum  nospudet,  posteaquam 
in  meliores  codices  incidimus.  And  Lipsius  could 
complain,  that  criticks  were  making  faults,  by  try- 
ing to  remove  them,  Ut  olim  vitiis,  ita  nunc  rente- 
diis  labor atur.  And  indeed,  when  mere  conjecture 
is  to  be  used,  the  emendations  of  Scaliger  and 
Lipsius,  notwithstanding  their  wonderful  sagacity 
and  erudition,  are  often  vague  and  disputable,  like 
mine  or  Theobald's. 

Perhaps  I  may  not  be  more  censured  for  doing 
wrong,  than  for  doing  little ;  for  raising  in  the 

'  the  Bishop  of  Aleria  — ]  John  Andreas.  He  was  se- 
cretary to  the  Vatican  Library  during  the  papacies  of  Paul  II. 
and  Sixtus  IV.  By  the  former  he  was  employed  to  superintend 
such  works  as  were  to  be  multiplied  by  the  new  art  of  printing, 
at  that  time  brought  into  Rome.  He  published  Herodotus, 
Strain),  Livy,  Aulus  (Jellius,  &c.  His  school -fellow,  Cardinal 
de  Cusa,  procured  him  the  bisboprick  of  Accia,  a  province  in 
Corsica;  and  Paul  II.  afterwards  appointed  him  to  that  of  Aleria 
in  the!  same  island,  where  he  died  in  14y3.  See  Fabric.  Uibl. 
Lat.  Vol.  III.  b«M.     Steevkks. 

\  2 


308         DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE. 

publick,  expectations  which  at  last  I  have  not 
answered.  The  expectation  of  ignorance  is  inde- 
finite, and  that  of  knowledge  is  often  tyrannical. 
It  is  hard  to  satisfy  those  who  know  not  what  to 
demand,  or  those  who  demand  by  design  what 
they  think  impossible  to  be  done.  I  have  indeed 
disappointed  no  opinion  more  than  my  own ;  yet 
I  have  endeavoured  to  perform  my  task  with  no 
slight  solicitude.  Not  a  single  passage  in  the  whole 
work  has  appeared  to  me  corrupt,  which  I  have 
not  attempted  to  restore;  or  obscure,  which  I  have 
not  endeavoured  to  illustrate.  In  many  I  have 
failed  like  others ;  and  from  many,  after  all  my 
efforts,  I  have  retreated,  and  confessed  the  repulse. 
I  have  not  passed  over,  with  affected  superiority, 
what  is  equally  difficult  to  the  reader  and  to  my- 
self, but  where  I  could  not  instruct  him,  have 
owned  my  ignorance.  I  might  easily  have  ac- 
cumulated a  mass  of  seeming  learning  upon  easy 
scenes ;  but  it  ought  not  to  be  imputed  to  negli- 
gence, that,  where  nothing  was  necessary,  nothing 
has  been  done,  or  that,  where  others  have  said 
enough,  I  have  said  no  more. 

Notes  are  often  necessary,  but  they  are  neces- 
sary evils.  Let  him,  that  is  yet  unacquainted  with 
the  powers  of  Shakspeare,  and  who  desires  to  feel 
the  highest  pleasure  that  the  drama  can  give,  read 
every  play,  from  the  first  scene  to  the  last,  with 
utter  negligence  of  all  his  commentators.  When 
his  fancy  is  once  on  the  wing,  let  it  not  stoop  at 
correction  or  explanation.  When  his  attention  is 
strongly  engaged,  let  it  disdain  alike  to  turn  aside 
to  the  name  of  Theobald  and  of  Pope.  Let  him 
read  on  through  brightness  and  obscurity,  through 
integrity  and  corruption ;  let  him  preserve  his 
comprehension  of  the  dialogue  and  his  interest  in 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         309 

the  fable.  And  when  the  pleasures  of  novelty 
have  ceased,  let  him  attempt  exactness,  and  read 
the  commentators. 

Particular  passages  are  cleared  by  notes,  but  the 
general  effect  of  the  work  is  weakened.  The  mind 
is  refrigerated  by  interruption ;  the  thoughts  are 
diverted  from  the  principal  subject ;  the  reader  is 
weary,  he  suspects  not  why ;  and  at  last  throws 
away  the  book  which  he  has  too  diligently  studied. 

Parts  are  not  to  be  examined  till  the  whole  has 
been  surveyed ;  there  is  a  kind  of  intellectual  re- ' 
moteness  necessary  for  the  comprehension  of  any 
great  work  in  its  full  design  and  in  its  true  pro- 
portions; a  close  approach  shows  the  smaller  nice- 
ties, but  the  beauty  of  the  whole  is  discerned  no 
longer. 

It  is  not  very  grateful  to  consider  how  little  the 
succession  of  editors  has  added  to  this  author's 
power  of  pleasing.  He  was  read,  admired,  studied, 
and  imitated,  while  he  was  yet  deformed  with  all 
the  improprieties  which  ignorance  and  neglect 
could  accumulate  upon  him;  while  the  reading  was 
yet  not  rectified,  nor  his  allusions  understood;  yet 
then  did  Dryden  pronounce,  "  that  Shakspeare  was 
the  man,  who,  of  all  modern  and  perhaps  ancient 
poets,  had  the  largest  and  most  comprehensive 
soul.  All  the  images  of  nature  were  still  present 
to  him,  and  he  drew  them  not  laboriously,  but 
luckily:  when  he  describes  any  thing,  you  more 
than  see  it,  you  feel  it  too.  Those,  who  accuse 
him  to  have  wanted  learning,  give  him  the  greater 
commendation  ;  he  was  naturally  learned ;  he 
needed  not  the  spectacles  of  books  to  read  nature; 
he  looked  inwards,  and  found  her  there.  I  cannot 
say  he  is  every  where  alike;  were  he  so,  I  should 
do  him  injury  to  compare  him  with  the  greatest 


310         DR.  JOHNSONS  PREFACE. 

of  mankind.  He  is  many  times  flat  and  insipid  ; 
his  comick  wit  degenerating  into  clenches,  his 
serious  swelling  into  bombast.  But  he  is  always 
great,  when  some  great  occasion  is  presented  to 
him :  no  man  can  say,  he  ever  had  a  fit  subject 
for  his  wit,  and  did  not  then  raise  himself  as  high 
above  the  rest  of  poets, 

"  Quantum  lenta  solent  inter  viburna  cupressi." 

It  is  to  be  lamented,  that  such  a  writer  should 
want  a  commentary;  that  his  language  should  be- 
come obsolete,  or  his  sentiments  obscure.  But  it 
is  vain  to  carry  wishes  beyond  the  condition  of 
human  things;  that  which  must  happen  to  all,  has 
happened  to  Shakspeare,  by  accident  and  time; 
and  more  than  has  been  suffered  by  any  other 
writer  since  the  use  of  types,  has  been  suffered  by 
him  through  his  own  negligence  of  fame,  or  per- 
haps by  that  superiority  of  mind,  which  despised 
its  own  performances,  when  it  compared  them 
with  its  powers,  and  judged  those  works  unworthy 
to  be  preserved,  which  the  criticks  of  following 
ages  were  to  contend  for  the  fame  of  restoring  and 
explaining. 

Among  these  candidates  of  inferior  fame,  I  am 
now  to  stand  the  judgment  of  the  publick ;  and 
wish  that  I  could  confidently  produce  my  commen- 
tary as  equal  to  the  encouragement  which  I  have 
had  the  honour  of  receiving.  Every  work  of  this 
kind  is  by  its  nature  deficient,  and  I  should  feel 
little  solicitude  about  the  sentence,  were  it  to  be 
pronounced  only  by  the  skilful  and  the  learned. 

Of  what  has  been  performed  in  this  revisal,6  an 

•  This  paragraph  relates  to  the  edition  published  in  17/3,  by 
George  Steevens,  Esq.     M alone. 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  PREFACE.         311 

account  is  given  in  the  following  pages  by  Mr, 
Steevens,  who  might  have  spoken  both  of  his  own 
diligence  and  sagacity,  in  terms  of  greater  self- 
approbation,  without  deviating  from  modesty  or 
truth.7    Johnson. 


ADVERTISEMENT 


TO    THE 


READER. 

[Prefixed  to  Mr.  Steevens's  Edition  of  Twenty 
of  the  old  Quarto  Copies  of  Shakspeare,  &c. 
in  4  Vols'.  8vo.  1766.] 

iHE  plays  of  Shakspeare  have  been  so  often 
republished,  with  every  seeming  advantage  which 
the  joint  labours  of  men  of  the  first  abilities  could 
procure  for  them,  that  one  would  hardly  imagine 
they  could  stand  in  need  of  any  thing  beyond  the 
illustration  of  some  few  dark  passages.  Modes  of 
expression  must  remain  in  obscurity,  or  be  re- 
trieved from  time  to  time,  as  chance  may  throw 


7  All  prefatory  matters  being  in  the  present  edition  printed 
according  to  the  order  of  time  in  which  they  originally  appeared, 
the  Advertisement  Dr.  Johnson  refers  to,  will  be  found  imme- 
diately after  Mr.  CapeWs  Introduction.     Steevens. 


313  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

the  books  of  that  age  into  the  hands  of  critickfi 
who  shall  make  a  proper  use  of  them.  Many 
have  been  of  opinion  that  his  language  will  con- 
tinue difficult  to  all  those  who  are  unacquainted 
with  the  provincial  expressions  which  they  sup- 
pose him  to  have  used ;  yet,  for  my  own  part,  I 
cannot  believe  but  that  those  which  are  now  local 
may  once  have  been  universal,  and  must  have 
been  the  language  of  those  persons  before  whom 
his  plays  were  represented.  However,  it  is  certain, 
that  the  instances  of  obscurity  from  this  source 
are  very  few. 

Some  have  been  of  opinion  that  even  a  particu- 
lar syntax  prevailed  in  the  time  of  Shakspeare ; 
but,  as  I  do  not  recollect  that  any  proofs  were 
ever  brought  in  support  of  that  sentiment,  I  own 
I  am  of  the  contrary  opinion. 

In  his  time  indeed  a  different  arrangement  of 

Ellables  had  been  introduced  in  imitation  of  the 
itin,  as  we  find  in  Ascham ;  and  the  verb  was 
frequently  kept  back  in  the  sentence;  but  in  Shak- 
speare no  marks  of  it  are  discernible ;  and  though 
the  rules  of  syntax  were  more  strictly  observed  by 
the  writers  of  that  age  than  they  have  been  since, 
he  of  all  the  number  is  perhaps  the  most  ungram- 
matical.  To  make  his  meaning  intelligible  to  his 
audience  seems  to  have  been  his  only  care,  and 
with  the  ease  of  conversation  he  has  adopted  its 
incorrectness. 

The  past  editors,  eminently  qualified  as  they 
were  by  genius  and  learning  for  this  undertaking, 
wanted  industry;  to  cover  which  they  published 
catalogues,  transcribed  at  random,  of  a  greater 
number  of  old  copies  than  ever  they  can  be  sup- 
posed to  have  had  in  their  possession ;  when,  at  the 
same  time,  they  never  examined  the  few  which  we 


ADVERTISEMENT.  s  1 3 

know  they  had,  with  any  degree  of  accuracy.  The 
last  editor  alone  has  dealt  fairly  with  the  world  in 
this  particular ;  he  professes  to  have  made  use  of 
no  more  than  he  had  really  seen,  and  has  annexed 
a  list  of  such  to  every  play,  together  with  a  com- 
plete one  of  those  supposed  to  be  in  being,  at  the 
conclusion  of  his  work,  whether  he  had  been  able 
to  procure  them  for  the  service  of  it  or  not. 

For  these  reasons  I  thought  it  would  not  be  un- 
acceptable to  the  lovers  of  Shakspeare  to  collate 
all  the  quartos  I  could  find,  comparing  one  copy 
with  the  rest,  where  there  were  more  than  one  of 
the  same  play;  and  to  multiply  the  chances  of  their 
being  preserved,  by  collecting  them  into  volumes, 
instead  of  leaving  the  few  that  have  escaped,  to 
share  the  fate  of  the  rest,  which  was  probably 
hastened  by  their  remaining  in  the  form  of 
pamphlets,  their  use  and  value  being  equally  un- 
known to  those  into  whose  hands  they  fell. 

Of  some  I  have  printed  more  than  one  copy ; 
as  there  are  many  persons,  who,  not  contented 
with  the  possession  of  a  finished  picture  of  some 
great  master,  are  desirous  to  procure  the  first 
sketch  that  was  made  for  it,  that  they  may  have 
the  pleasure  of  tracing  the  progress  of  the  artist 
from  the  first  light  colouring  to  the  finishing 
stroke.  To  such  the  earlier  editions  of  King  John, 
Henry  the  Fifth,  Henri/  the  Sixth,  The  Merry 
Wives  qf*  Windsor,  and  Romeo  and  Juliet,  will,  I 
apprehend,  not  be  unwelcome ;  since  in  these  we 
may  discern  as  much  as  will  be  found  in  the  hasty 
outlines  of  the  pencil,  with  a  fair  prospect  of  that 
perfection  to  which  he  brought  every  performance 
he  took  the  pains  to  retouch. 

The  general  character  of  the  quarto  editions 
may  more  advantageously  be  taken  from  the  words 


314  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

of  Mr.  Pope,  than  from  any  recommendation  of 
my  own. 

"  The  folio  edition  (says  he)  in  which  all  the 
plays  we  now  receive  as  his  were  first  collected, 
was  published  by  two  players,  Heminges  and  Con- 
dell,  in  1 623,  seven  years  after  his  decease.  They 
declare  that  all  the  other  editions  were  stolen  and 
surreptitious,8  and  affirm  theirs  to  be  purged  from 
the  errors  of  the  former.  This  is  true  as  to  the 
literal  errors,  and  no  other;  for  in  all  respects 
else  it  is  far  worse  than  the  quartos. 

"  First,  because  the  additions  of  trifling  and 
bombast  passages  are  in  this  edition  far  more  nu- 
merous. For  whatever  had  been  added  since  those 
quartos,  by  the  actors,  or  had  stolen  from  their 
mouths  into  the  written  parts,  were  from  thence 
conveyed  into  the  printed  text,  and  all  stand 
charged  upon  the  author.  He  himself  complained 
of  this  usage  in  Hamlet,  where  he  wishes  those  who 
play  the  clowns  would  speak  no  more  than  is  set  down 
for  them,  (Act  III.  sc.  iv.)  But  as  a  proof  that  he 
could  not  escape  it,  in  the  old  editions  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  there  is  no  hint  of  the  mean  conceits 
and  ribaldries  now  to  be  found  there.  In  others 
the  scenes  of  the  mobs,  plebeians,  and  clowns,  are 
vastly  shorter  than  at  present;  and  I  have  seen 
one  in  particular  (which  seems  to  have  belonged 
to  the  play-house,  by  having  the  parts  divided 
by  lines,  and  the  actors  names  in  the  margin,) 
where  several  of  those  very  passages  were  added 


*  It  may  be  proper  on  this  occasion  to  observe,  that  the  actors 
printed  several  of  the  plays  in  their  folio  edition  from  the  very 
quarto  copies  which  they  are  here  striving  to  depreciate;  and 
additional  corruption  is  the  utmost  that  these  copies  gained  by 
passing  through  their  hands. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  315 

in  a  written  hand,  which  since  are  to  be  found  in 
the  folio. 

"  In  the  next  place,  a  number  of  beautiful  pas- 
sages were  omitted,  which  were  extant  in  the  first 
single  editions ;  as  it  seems  without  any  other  rea- 
son than  their  willingness  to  shorten  some  scenes.*' 

To  this  I  must  add,  that  I  cannot  help  looking 
on  the  folio  as  having  suffered  other  injuries  from 
the  licentious  alteration  of  the  players ;  as  we  fre- 
quently find  in  it  an  unusual  word  changed  into 
one  more  popular;  sometimes  to  the  weakening  of 
the  sense,  which  rather  seems  to  have  been  their 
work,  who  knew  that  plainness  was  necessary  for 
the  audience  of  an  illiterate  age,  than  that  it  was 
done  by  the  consent  of  the  author :  for  he  would 
hardly  have  unnerved  a  line  in  his  written  copy, 
which  they  pretend  to  have  transcribed,  however 
he  might  have  permitted  many  to  have  been  fami- 
liarized in  the  representation.  Were  I  to  indulge 
my  own  private  conjecture,  I  should  suppose  that 
his  blotted  manuscripts  were  read  over  by  one  to 
another  among  those  who  were  appointed  to  tran- 
scribe them;  and  hence  it  would  easily  happen, that 
words  of  similar  sound,  though  of  senses  directly 
opposite,  might  be  confounded  with  each  other. 
1  hey  themselves  declare  that  Shakspeare's  time  of 
blotting  was  past,  and  yet  half  the  errors  we  find 
in  their  edition  could  not  be  merely  typographical. 
Many  of  the  quartos  (as  our  own  printers  assure 
me)  were  far  from  being  unskilfully  executed,  and 
some  of  them  were  much  more  correctly  printed 
than  the  folio,  which  was  published  at  the  charge 
of  the  same  proprietors,  whose  names  we  find  pre- 
fixed to  the  older  copies ;  and  I  cannot  join  with 
Mr.  Pope  in  acquitting  that  edition  of  more  li- 
teral errors  than  those  which  went  before  it.    The 


316  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

particles  in  it  seem  to  be  as  fortuitously  disposed, 
and  proper  names  as  frequently  undistinguished 
by  Italick  or  capital  letters  from  the  rest  of  the 
text.  The  punctuation  is  equally  accidental ;  nor 
do  I  see  on  the  whole  any  greater  marks  of  a  skil- 
ful revisal,  or  the  advantage  of  being  printed  from 
unblotted  originals  in  the  one,  than  in  the  other. 
One  reformation  indeed  there  seems  to  have  been 
made,  and  that  very  laudable ;  I  mean  the  substi- 
tution of  more  general  terms  for  a  name  too  often 
unnecessarily  invoked  on  the  stage ;  but  no  jot  of 
obscenity  is  omitted :  and  their  caution  against 
profaneness  is,  in  my  opinion,  the  only  thing  for 
which  we  are  indebted  to  the  judgment  of  the 
editors  of  the  folio.9 

How  much  may  be  done  by  the  assistance  of  the 
old  copies  will  now  be  easily  known ;  but  a  more 
difficult  task  remains  behind,  which  calls  for  other 
abilities  than  are  requisite  in  the  laborious  col- 
lator. 

From  a  diligent  perusal  of  the  comedies  of  con- 
temporary authors,  I  am  persuaded  that  the  mean- 
ing of  many  expressions  in  Shakspeare  might  be 
retrieved ;  for  the  language  of  conversation  can 
only  be  expected  to  be  preserved  in  works,  which 
in  their  time  assumed  the  merit  of  being  pictures 
of  men  and  manners.  The  style  of  conversation 
we  may  suppose  to  be  as  much  altered  as  that  of 

*  and  their  caution  against  profaneness  is.,  in  my  opinion, 

the  only  thing  for  which  voe  are  indebted  to  the  editors  of  the 
folio.']  I  doubt  whether  we  are  so  much  indebted  to  the  judg- 
ment of  the  editors  of  the  folio  edition,  for  their  caution  against 
profaneness,  as  to  the  statute  3  Jac.  I.  c.  21,  which  prohibits 
under  severe  penalties  the  use  of  the  sacred  name  in  any  plays 
or  interludes.  This  occasioned  the  playhouse  copies  to  be 
altered,  and  they  printed  from  the  playhouse  copies. 

Blackstone. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  3 1 7 

books ;  and,  in  consequence  of  the  change,  we 
have  no  other  authorities  to  recur  to  in  either  case. 
Should  our  language  ever  be  recalled  to  a  strict 
examination,  and  the  fashion  become  general  of 
striving  to  maintain  our  old  acquisitions,  instead 
of  gaining  new  ones,  which  we  shall  be  at  last 
obliged  to  give  up,  or  be  incumbered  with  their 
weight;  it  will  then  be  lamented  that  no  regular  col- 
lection was  ever  formed  of  the  old  English  books; 
from  which,  as  from  ancient  repositories,  we  might 
recover  words  and  phrases  as  often  as  caprice  or 
wantonness  should  call  for  variety;  instead  of  think- 
ing it  necessary  to  adopt  new  ones,  or  barter  solid 
strength  for  feeble  splendour,  which  no  language 
has  long  admitted,  and  retained  its  purity. 

We  wonder  that,  before  the  time  of  Shakspeare, 
we  find  the  stage  in  a  state  so  barren  of  produc- 
tions, but  forget  that  we  have  hardly  any  acquaint- 
ance with  the  authors  of  that  period,  though  some 
few  of  their  dramatick  pieces  may  remain.  The 
same  might  be  almost  said  of  the  interval  between 
that  age  and  the  age  of  Dryden,  the  performances 
of  which,  not  being  preserved  in  sets,  or  diffused 
as  now,  by  the  greater  number  printed,  must  lapse 
apace  into  the  same  obscurity. 

"  Vixere  fortes  ante  Aganiemnona 
«  Multi ." 

And  yet  we  are  contented,  from  a  few  specimens 
only,  to  form  our  opinions  of  the  genius  of  ages 
gone  before  us.  Even  while  we  are  blaming  the 
taste  of  that  audience  which  received  with  applause 
the  worst  plays  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second, 
we  should  consider  that  the  few  in  possession  of 
our  theatre,  which  would  never  have  been  heard  a 
second  time  had  they  been  written  now,  were  pro- 


313  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

bably  the  best  of  hundreds  which  had  been  dis- 
missed with  general  censure.  The  collection  of 
plays,  interludes,  &c.  made  by  Mr.  Garrick,  with 
an  intent  to  deposit  them  hereafter  in  some  publick 
library,1  will  be  considered  as  a  valuable  acquisi- 
tion; for  pamphlets  have  never  yet  been  examined 
with  a  proper  regard  to  posterity.  Most  of  the  ob- 
solete pieces  will  be  found  on  enquiry  to  have  been 
introduced  into  libraries  but  some  few  years  since; 
and  yet  those  of  the  present  age,  which  may  one 
time  or  other  prove  as  useful,  are  still  entirely 
neglected.  I  should  be  remiss,  I  am  sure,  were  I 
to  forget  my  acknowledgments  to  the  gentleman  I 
have  just  mentioned,  to  whose  benevolence  I  owe 
the  use  of  several  of  the  scarcest  quartos,  which  I 
could  not  otherwise  have  obtained ;  though  I  ad- 
vertised for  them,with  sufficient  offers,  as  I  thought, 
either  to  tempt  the  casual  owner  to  sell,  or  the  curi- 
ous to  communicate  them  ;  but  Mr.  Garrick's  zeal 
would  not  permit  him  to  withhold  any  thing  that 
might  ever  so  remotely  tend  to  show  the  perfec- 
tions of  that  author  who  could  only  have  enabled 
him  to  display  his  own. 

It  is  not  merely  to  obtain  justice  to  Shakspeare, 
that  I  have  made  this  collection,  and  advise  others 
to  be  made.  The  general  interest  of  English  litera- 
ture, and  the  attention  due  to  our  own  language 
and  history,  require  that  our  ancient  writings  should 
be  diligently  reviewed.  There  is  no  age  which  has 
not  produced  some  works  that  deserved  to  be  re- 
membered; and  as  words  and  phrases  are  only  un- 
derstood by  comparing  them  in  different  places,  the 
lower  writers  must  be  read  for  the  explanation  of 


1  This  collection  is  now,  in  pursuance  of  Mr.  Garrick's  Will, 
placed  in  the  British  Museum.     Reed. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  s  1 9 

the  highest.  No  language  can  be  ascertained  and 
settled,  but  by  deducing  its  words  from  their  origi- 
nal sources,  and  tracing  them  through  their  suc- 
cessive .varieties  of  signification ;  and  this  deduc- 
tion can  only  be  performed  by  consulting  the  ear- 
liest and  intermediate  authors. 

Enough  has  been  already  done  to  encourage  us 
to  do  more.  Dr.  Hickes,  by  reviving  the  study  of 
the  Saxon  language,  seems  to  have  excited  a 
stronger  curiosity  after  old  English  writers,  than 
ever  had  appeared  before  Many  volumes  which 
were  mouldering  in  dust  have  been  collected;  many 
authors  which  were  forgotten  have  been  revived ; 
many  laborious  catalogues  have  been  formed;  and 
many  judicious  glossaries  compiled;  the  literary 
transactions  of  the  darker  ages  are  now  open  to 
discovery ;  and  the  language  in  its  intermediate 
gradations,  from  the  Conquest  to  the  Restoration, 
is  better  understood  than  in  any  former  time. 

To  incite  the  continuance,  and  encourage  the 
extension  of  this  domestick  curiosity,  is  one  of  the 
purposes  of  the  present  publication.  In  the  plays 
it  contains,  the  poet's  first  thoughts  as  well  as 
words  are  preserved ;  the  additions  made  in  subse- 
quent impressions,  distinguished  in  Italicks,  and 
the  performances  themselves  make  their  appearance 
with  every  typographical  error,  such  as  they  were 
before  they  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  player-editors. 
The  various  readings,  which  can  only  be  attributed 
to  chance,  are  set  down  among  the  rest,  as  I  did  not 
choose  arbitrarily  to  determine  for  others  which 
were  useless,  or  which  were  valuable.  And  many 
words  differing  only  by  the  spelling,  or  serving 
merely  to  show  the  difficulties  which  they  to  whose 
lot  it  first  fell  to  disentangle  their  perplexities  must 


320  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

have  encountered,  are  exhibited  with  the  rest.  I 
must  acknowledge  that  some  few  readings  have 
slipped  in  by  mistake,  which  can  pretend  to  serve 
no  purpose  of  illustration,  but  were  introduced  by 
confining  myself  to  note  the  minutest  variations 
of  the  copies,  which  soon  convinced  me  that  the 
oldest  were  in  general  the  most  correct.  Though 
no  proof  can  be  given  that  the  poet  superintended 
the  publication  of  any  one  of  these  himself,  yet  we 
have  little  reason  to  suppose  that  he  who  wrote  at 
the  command  of  Elizabeth,  and  under  the  patron- 
age of  Southampton,  was  so  very  negligent  of  his 
fame,  as  to  permit  the  most  incompetent  judges, 
such  as  the  players  were,  to  vary  at  their  pleasure 
what  he  hacl  set  down  for  the  first  single  editions; 
and  we  have  better  grounds  for  suspicion  that  his 
works  did  materially  suffer  from  their  presumptu- 
ous corrections  after  his  death. 

It  is  very  well  known,  that  before  the  time  of 
Shakspeare,  the  art  of  making  title-pages  was 
practised  with  as  much,  or  perhaps  more  success 
than  it  has  been  since.  Accordingly,  to  all  his 
plays  we  find  long  and  descriptive  ones,  which, 
when  they  were  first  published,  were  of  great  service 
to  the  venders  of  them.  Pamphlets  of  every  kind 
were  hawked  about  the  streets  by  a  set  of  people 
resembling  his  own  Autolycus,  who  proclaimed 
aloud  the  qualities  of  what  they  offered  to  sale,  and 
might  draw  in  many  a  purchaser  by  the  mirth  he 
was  taught  to  expect  from  the  humours  of  Corporal 
Nym,  or  the  swaggering  vaine  of'  Auncient  Pistol!, 
who  was  not  to  be  tempted  by  the  representation 
of  a  fact  merely  historical.  The  players,  however, 
laid  aside  the  whole  of  this  garniture,  not  finding  it 
so  necessary  to  procure  success  to  a  bulky  volume. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  32 1 

when  the  author's  reputation  was  established,  as  it 
had  been  to  bespeak  attention  to  a  few  straggling 
pamphlets  while  it  was  yet  uncertain. 

The  sixteen  plays  which  are  not  in  these  volumes, 
remained  unpublished  till  the  folio  in  the  year  1 623, 
though  the  compiler  of  a  work  called  Theatrical 
Records,  mentions  different  single  editions  of  them 
all  before  that  time.  But  as  no  one  of  the  editors 
could  ever  meet  with  such,  nor  has  any  one  else 
pretended  to  have  seen  them,  I  think  myself  at  li- 
berty to  suppose  the  compiler  supplied  the  defects 
of  the  list  out  of  his  own  imagination ;  since  he 
must  have  had  singular  good  fortune  to  have  been 
possessed  of  two  or  three  different  copies  of  all, 
when  neither  editors  nor  collectors,  in  the  course 
of  near  fifty  years,  have  been  able  so  much  as  to 
obtain  the  sight  of  one  of  the  number.8 

At  the  end  of  the  last  volume  I  have  added  a 
tragedy  of  King  Leir,  published  before  that  of 
Shakspeare,  which  it  is  not  improbable  he  might 
have  seen,  as  the  father  kneeling  to  the  daughter, 
when  she  kneels  to  ask  his  blessing,  is  found  in  it ; 
a  circumstance  two  poets  were  not  very  likely  to 
have  hit  on  separately;  and  which  seems  borrowed 
by  the  latter  with  his  usual  judgment,  it  being  the 


•  It  will  be  ©bvious  to  every  one  acquainted  with  the  ancient 
English  language,  that  in  almost  all  the  titles  of  plays  in  this 
catalogue  of  Mr.  William  Rujus  Chetwood,  the  spelling  is  con- 
stantly overcharged  with  such  a  superfluity  of  letters  as  is  not 
to  be  found  in  the  writings  of  Shakspeare  or  his  contemporaries. 
A  more  bungling  attempt  at  a  forgery  was  never  ohtruded  on  the 
publick.  See  the  British  Theatre,  1750;  reprinted  by  Dodsley 
in  1756,  under  the  title  of  •'  Theatrical  Records,  or  an  Account 
of  English  Dramatick  Authors,  and  their  Works,"  where  all 
that  is  said  concerning  an  Advertisement  at  the  end  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet ,  1 597,  is  equally  false,  no  copy  of  that  play  having 
been  ever  published  by  Andrew  Wise. 

VOL.  I.  V 


322  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

most  natural  passage  in  the  whole  play ;  and  is  in- 
troduced in  such  a  manner,  as  to  make  it  fairly  his 
own.  The  ingenious  editor  of  The  Reliques  of 
Ancient  English  Poetry  having  never  met  with  this 
play,  and  as  it  is  not  preserved  in  Mr.  Garrick's 
collection,  I  thought  it  a  curiosity  worthy  the  no- 
tice of  the  publick. 

I  have  likewise  reprinted  Shakspeare's  Sonnets, 
from  a  copy  published  in  1609,  by  G.  Eld,  one  of 
the  printers  of  his  plays;  which,  added  to  the  con- 
sideration that  they  made  their  appearance  with 
his  name,  and  in  his  life-time,  seems  to  be  no 
slender  proof  of  their  authenticity.  The  same 
evidence  might  operate  in  favour  of  several  more 
plays  which  are  omitted  here,  out  of  respect  to 
the  judgment  of  those  who  had  omitted  them 
before.9 

It  is  to  be  wished  that  some  method  of  publica- 
tion most  favourable  to  the  character  of  an  author 
were  once  established ;  whether  we  are  to  send 
into  the  world  all  his  works  without  distinction,  or 
arbitrarily  to  leave  out  what  may  be  thought  a 
disgrace  to  him.  The  first  editors,  who  rejected 
Pericles,  retained  Titus  Andronicus;  and  Mr.  Pope, 
without  any  reason,  named  The  Winter  s  Tale,  a 
play  that  bears  the  strongest  marks  of  the  hand 
of  Shakspeare,  among  those  which  he  supposed  to 
be  spurious.  Dr.  Warburton  has  fixed  a  stigma 
on  the  three  parts  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  and  some 
others : 

"  Inde  Dolabeila,  est,  atque  hinc  Antonius  ;" 
and  all  have  been  willing  to  plunder  Shakspeare, 

9  Locrine,  15Q5.  Sir  John  X)ldcastle,  l600.  London  Pro- 
digal, 1605.  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre,  idOQ.  Puritan,  ]600. 
Thomas  Lord  Cromwell,  1613.     Yorkshire  Tragedy,  1608. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  323 

or  mix  up  a  breed  of  barren  metal  with  his  purest 
ore. 

Joshua  Barnes,  the  editor  of  Euripides,  thought 
every  scrap  of  his  author  so  sacred,  that  he  has 
preserved  with  the  name  of  one  of  his  plays,  the 
only  remaining  word  of  it.  The  same  reason  in- 
deed might  be  given  in  his  favour,  which  caused 
the  preservation  of  that  valuable  trisyllable;  which 
is,  that  it  cannot  be  found  in  any  other  place  in  the 
Greek  language.  But  this  docs  not  seem  to  have 
been  his  only  motive,  as  we  find  he  has  to  the  full 
as  carefully  published  several  detached  and  broken 
sentences,  the  gleanings  from  scholiasts,  which 
have  no  claim  to  merit  of  that  kind ;  and  yet  the 
author's  works  might  be  reckoned  by  some  to  be 
incomplete  without  them.  If  then  this  duty  is 
expected  from  every  editor  of  a  Greek  or  Roman 
poet,  why  is  not  the  same  insisted  on  in  respect  of 
an  English  classick  ?  But  if  the  custom  of  pre- 
serving all,  whether  worthy  of  it  or  not,  be  more 
honoured  in  the  breach,  than  the  observance,  the 
suppression  at  least  should  not  be  considered  as  a 
fault.  The  publication  of  such  things  as  Swift  had 
written  merely  to  raise  a  laugh  among  his  friends, 
has  added  something  to  the  bulk  of  his  works,  but 
very  little  to  his  character  as  a  writer.  The  four 
volumes  '  that  came  out  since  Dr.  Hawkesworth's 
edition,  not  to  look  on  them  as  a  tax  levied  on  the 
publick,  (which  I  think  one  might  without  injus- 
tice,) contain  not  more  than  sufficient  to  have  made 
one  of  real  value;  and  there  is  a  kind  of  disinge- 
nuity,  not  to  give  it  a  harsher  title,  in  exhibiting 
what  the  author  never  meant  should  sec  the  light; 

1  Volumes  XIII.  XIV.  XV.  and   XVI.  in   large  8vo.     Nine 
more  have  since  been  added.     Heed. 

Y  2 


324  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

for  no  motive,  but  a  sordid  one,  can  betray  the 
survivors  to  make  that  publick,  which  they  them- 
selves must  be  of  opinion  will  be  unfavourable  to 
the  memory  of  the  dead. 

Life  does  not  often  receive  good  unmixed  with 
evil.  The  benefits  of  the  art  of  printing  are  de- 
praved by  the  facility  with  which  scandal  may  be 
diffused,  and  secrets  revealed ;  and  by  the  tempta- 
tion by  which  traffick  solicits  avarice  to  betray 
the  weaknesses  of  passion,  or  the  confidence  of 
friendship. 

I  cannot  forbear  to  think  these  posthumous  pub- 
lications injurious  to  society.  A  man  conscious 
of  literary  reputation  will  grow  in  time  afraid  to 
write  with  tenderness  to  his  sister,  or  with  fondness 
to  his  child ;  or  to  remit  on  the  slightest  occasion, 
or  most  pressing  exigence,  the  rigour  of  critical 
choice,  and  grammatical  severity.  That  esteem 
which  preserves  his  letters,  will  at  last  produce  his 
disgrace ;  when  that  which  he  wrote  to  his  friend 
or  his  daughter  shall  be  laid  open  to  the  publick. 

There  is  perhaps  sufficient  evidence,  that  most 
of  the  plays  in  question,  unequal  as  they  may  be 
to  the  rest,  were  written  by  Shakspeare ;  but  the 
reason  generally  given  for  publishing  the  less  cor- 
rect pieces  of  an  author,  that  it  affords  a  more  im- 
partial view  of  a  man's  talents  or  way  of  thinking, 
than  when  we  only  see  him  in  form,  and  prepared 
for  our  reception,  is  not  enough  to  condemn  an 
editor  who  thinks  and  practises  otherwise.  For 
what  is  all  this  to  show,  but  that  every  man  is  more 
dull  at  one  time  than  another?  a  fact  which  the 
world  would  easily  have  admitted,  without  asking 
any  proofs  in  its  support  that  might  be  destructive 
to  an  author's  reputation. 

To  conclude ;  if  the  work,  which  this  publica- 


ADVERTISEMENT.  325 

tion  was  meant  to  facilitate,  has  been  already  per- 
formed, the  satisfaction  of  knowing  it  to  be  so  may 
be  obtained  from  hence ;  if  otherwise,  let  those  who 
raised  expectations  of  correctness,  and  through 
negligence  defeated  them,  be  justly  exposed  by 
future  editors,  who  will  now  be  in  possession  of  by 
far  the  greatest  part  of  what  they  might  have  en- 
quired after  for  years  to  no  purpose;  for  in  respect 
of  such  a  number  of  the  old  quartos  as  are  here 
exhibited,  the  first  folio  is  a  common  book.  This 
advantage  will  at  least  arise,  that  future  editors 
having  equally  recourse  to  the  same  copies,  can 
challenge  distinction  and  preference  only  by  ge- 
nius, capacity,  industry,  and  learning- 

As  I  have  only  collected  materials  for  future 
artists,  I  consider  what  I  have  been  doing  as  no 
more  than  an  apparatus  for  their  use.  If  the  pub- 
lick  is  inclined  to  receive  it  as  such,  I  am  amply 
rewarded  for  my  trouble;  if  otherwise,  I  shall  sub- 
mit with  cheerfulness  to  the  censure  which  should 
equitably  fall  on  an  injudicious  attempt;  having  this 
consolation,  however,  that  my  design  amounted  to 
no  more  than  a  wish  to  encourage  others  to  think 
of  preserving  the  oldest  editions  of  the  English 
writers,  which  are  growing  scarcer  every  day;  and 
to  afford  the  world  all  the  assistance  or  pleasure  it 
can  receive  from  the  most  authentick  copies  extant 
of  its  NOBLEST  POET.5 

G.  S. 


*  As  the  foregoing  Advertisement  appeared  when  its  author 
was  young  and  uninformed,  he  cannot  now  abide  by  many  sen- 
timents expressed  in  it :  nor  would  it  have  been  here  reprinted, 
but  in  compliance  with  Dr.  Johnson's  injunction,  that  all  the  re- 
lative Prefaces  should  continue  to  attend  his  edition  of  our  au- 
thor's plays.     Steevens. 


MR.  CAPELL'S 

INTRODUCTION/ 


IT  is  said  of  the  ostrich,  that  she  drops  her  egg 
at  random,  to  be  dispos'd  of  as  chance  pleases ; 
either  brought  to  maturity  by  the  sun's  kindly 
warmth,  or  else  crush'd  by  beasts  and  the  feet  of 
passers-by:  such,  at  least,  is  the  account  which 
naturalists  have  given  us  of  this  extraordinary 
bird ;  and  admitting  it  for  a  truth,  she  is  in  this 
a  fit  emblem  of  almost  every  great  genius :  they 
conceive  and  produce  with  ease  those  noble  issues 
of  human  understanding;  but  incubation,  the  dull 
work  of  putting  them  correctly  upon  paper  and 
afterwards  publishing,  is  a  task  they  can  not  away 
with.  If  the  original  state  of  all  such  authors'  writ- 
ings, even  from  Homer  downward,  could  be  en- 
quir'd  into  and  known,  they  would  yield  proof  in 
abundance  of  the  justness  of  what  is  here  asserted : 
but  the  author  now  before  us  shall  suffice  for  them 
all ;  being  at  once  the  greatest  instance  of  genius 
in  producing  noble  things,  and  of  negligence  in 
providing  for  them  afterwards.  This  negligence 
indeed  was  so  great,  and  the  condition  in  which 

•  Dr.  Johnson's  opinion  of  this  performance  may  be  known 
from  the  following  passage  in  Mr,  Boswell's  Life  of  Dr.  Johnson, 
second  edit.  Vol.  III.  p.  251 :  "  If  the  man  would  have  come  to 
me,  I  would  have  endeavoured  to  endow  his  purpose  with  words, 
for  as  it  is,  he  doth  gabble  monstrously." 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    327 

his  works  are  come  down  to  us  so  very  deform'd, 
that  it  has,  of  late  years,  induc'd  several  gentlemen 
to  make  a  revision  of  them:  but  the  publick  seems 
not  to  be  satisfy'd  with  any  of  their  endeavours ; 
and  the  reason  of  it's  discontent  will  be  manifest, 
when  the  state  of  his  old  editions,  and  the  methods 
that  they  have  taken  to  amend  them,  are  fully  lay'd 
open,  which  is  the  first  business  of  this  Introduc- 
tion. 

Of  thirty-six  plays  which  Shakspeare  has  left  us, 
and  which  compose  the  collection  that  was  after- 
wards set  out  in  folio;  thirteen  only  were  publish'd 
in  his  life-time,  that  have  much  resemblance  to  those 
in  the  folio  j  these  thirteen  are — "  Hamlet,  First 
and  Second  Henry  IV.  King  Lear,  Love's  Labour  s 
Lost,  Merchant  of  Venice,  Midsummer -Night's 
Dream,  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  Richard  II, 
and  III.  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Titus  Andronicus,  and 
Troilus  and  Crcssida."  Some  others,  that  came 
out  in  the  same  period,  bear  indeed  the  titles  of — 
"  Henry  V.  King  John,  Merry  JVives  of  JVindsor, 
and  Taming  of' the  Shrew;7"  but  are  no  other  than 
either  first  draughts,  or  mutilated  and  perhaps  sur- 
reptitious impressions  of  those  plays,  but  whether 
of  the  two  is  not  easy  to  determine  :  King  John  is 

7  This  is  meant  of  the  first  quarto  edition  of  The  Taming  of 
the  Shrexv ;  for  the  second  was  printed  ;rom  the  folio.  Hut  the 
play  in  this  first  edition  appears  certainly  to  have  been  a  spurious 
one,  from  Mr.  Pope's  account  of  it,  who  seems  to  have  been 
the  only  editor  whom  it  was  ever  seen  by:  great  pains  have  been 
taken  to  trace  who  he  had  it  of,  (for  it  was  not  in  his  collection) 
but  without  success. 

[Mr.  C'apell  afterwards  procured  a  sight  of  this  desideratum,  a 
circumstance  which  he  has  quaintly  recorded  in  a  note  annexed 
to  the  MS.  catalogue  of  his  Shalap&riana  :  **  —  lent  by  Mr.  Ma- 
lyne,  an  Irish  gentleman,  living  in  Queen  Ann  Street  Fast."] 

Stikvkns, 


328    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

certainly  a  first  draught,  and  in  two  parts  ;  and  so 
much  another  play,  that  only  one  line  of  it  is  re- 
tain'd  in  the  second :  there  is  also  a  first  draught  of 
the  Second  and  Third  Parts  of  Henry  VI.  published 
in  his  life-time  under  the  following  title, — "  The 
whole  Contention  betweene  the  two  famous  Houses, 
Lancaster  and  Yorke:,y  and  to  these  plays,  six  in 
number,  may  be  added — the  first  impression  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  being  a  play  of  the  same  stamp: 
The  date  of  all  these  quarto's,  and  that  of  their  se- 
veral re-impressions,  may  be  seen  in  a  table  that 
follows  the  Introduction.  Othello  came  out  only 
one  year  before  the  folio;  and  is,  in  the  main,  the 
same  play  that  we  have  there  :  and  this  too  is  the 
case  of  the  first-mention'd  thirteen;  notwithstand- 
ing there  are  in  many  of  them  great  variations,  and 
particularly  in  Hamlet,  King  Lear,  Richard  III* 
and  Romeo  and  Juliet, 

As  for  the  plays,  which,  we  say,  are  either  the 
poet's  first  draughts,  or  else  imperfect  and  stolen 
copies,  it  will  be  thought,  perhaps,  they  might  as 
well  have  been  left  out  of  the  account:  but  they 
are  not  wholly  useless  ;  some  lacuna?,  that  are  in  all 
the  other  editions,  have  been  judiciously  fill'd  up 
in  modern  impressions  by  the  authority  of  these 
copies;  and  in  some  particular  passages  of  them, 
where  there  happens  to  be  a  greater  conformity  than 
usual  between  them  and  the  more  perfect  editions, 
there  is  here  and  there  a  various  reading  that  does 
honour  to  the  poet's  judgment,  and  should  upon 
that  account  be  presum'd  the  true  one;  in  other 
respects,  they  have  neither  use  nor  merit,  but  are 
meerly  curiosities. 

Proceed  we  then  to  a  description  of  the  other 
fourteen.  They  all  abound  in  faults,  though  not 
in  equal  degree ;  and  those  faults  are  so  numerous, 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    329 

and  of  so  many  different  natures,  that  nothing  but 
a  perusal  of  the  pieces  themselves  can  give  an 
adequate  conception  of  them  ;  but  amongst  them 
are  these  that  follow.  Division  of  acts  and  scenes, 
they  have  none;  Othello  only  excepted,  which  is 
divided  into  acts  :  entries  of  persons  are  extreamly 
imperfect  in  them,  (sometimes  more,  sometimes 
fewer  than  the  scene  requires)  and  their  Exits  are 
very  often  omitted  ;  or,  when  mark'd,  not  always 
in  the  right  place ;  and  few  scenical  directions  are 
to  be  met  with  throughout  the  whole :  speeches 
are  frequently  confounded,  and  given  to  wrong 
persons,  either  whole,  or  in  part ;  and  sometimes, 
instead  of  the  person  speaking,  you  have  the  actor 
who  presented  him :  and  in  two  of  the  plays, 
(Love's  Labour's  Lost,  and  Troilus  and  Cressida,) 
the  same  matter,  and  in  nearly  the  same  words,  is 
set  down  twice  in  some  passages  ;  which  who  sees 
not  to  be  only  a  negligence  of  the  poet,  and  that 
but  one  of  them  ought  to  have  been  printed?  But 
the  reigning  fault  of  all  is  in  the  measure  :  prose  is 
very  often  printed  as  verse,  and  verse  as  prose;  or, 
where  rightly  printed  verse,  that  verse  is  not  always 
right  divided:  and  in  all  these  pieces,  the  songs  are 
in  every  particular  still  more  corrupt  than  the 
other  parts  of  them.  These  are  the  general  and 
principal  defects:  to  which  if  you  add — transposi- 
tion or  words,  sentences,  lines,  and  even  speeches; 
words  omitted,  and  others  added  without  reason ; 
and  a  punctuation  so  deficient,  and  so  often  wrong, 
that  it  hardly  deserves  regard  ;  you  have,  upon  the 
whole,  a  true  but  melancholy  picture  of  the  con- 
dition of  these  first  printed  plays :  which  bad  as 
it  is,  is  yet  better  than  that  of  those  which  came 
after ;  or  than  that  of  the  subsequent  folio  im- 


330  MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

pression  of  some  of  these  which  we  are  now  speak- 
ing of. 

This  folio  impression  was  sent  into  the  world 
seven  years  after  the  author's  death,  hy  two  of  his 
fellow-players  j  and  contains,  besides  the  last  men- 
tion'd  fourteen,  the  true  and  genuine  copies  of  the 
other  six  plays,  and  sixteen  that  were  never  pub- 
lish'd  before:8  the  editors  make  great  professions 
of  fidelity,  and  some  complaint  of  injury  done  to 
them  and  the  author  by  stolen  and  maim'd  copies; 
giving  withal  an  advantageous,  if  just,  idea  of  the 
copies  which  they  have  follow'd :  but  see  the  terms 
they  make  use  of.     "  It  had  bene  a  thing,  we  con- 
fesse,  worthie  to  have  bene  wished,  that  the  author 
himselfe  had  liv'd  to  have  set  forth,  and  overseen 
his  owne  writings  ;  but  since  it  hath  bin  ordain'd 
otherwise,  and  he  by  death  departed  from  that 
right,  we  pray  you  do  not  envie  his  friends,  the 
office  of  their  care,  and  paine,  to  have  collected 
&   publish'd   them ;  and    so    to    have    publish'd 
them,  as  where  (before)  you  were  abus'd  with 
diverse  stolne,  and  surreptitious  copies,  maimed, 
and  deformed  by  the  frauds  and  stealthes  of  in- 
jurious impostors,  that  expos'd  them:  even  those, 
are  now  offer'd  to  your  view  cur'd,  and  perfect 

8  There  is  yet  extant  in  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company, 
an  entry  bearing  date — Feb.  12,  l6'24,  to  Messrs.  Jaggard  and 
Blount,  the  proprietors  of  this  first  folio,  which  is  thus  worded  : 
"  Mr.  Wm.  Shakespear1  s  Comedy's  History's  Sf  Tragedy's  so 
many  of  the  said  Copy's  as  bee  not  entered  to  other  men  ;"  and 
this  entry  is  follow'd  by  the  titles  of  all  those  sixteen  plays  that 
were  first  printed  in  the  folio  :  The  other  twenty  plays  ( Othello, 
and  King  John,  excepted  ;  which  the  person  who  furnished  this 
transcript,  thinks  he  may  have  overlook'd,)  are  enter'd  too  in 
these  books,  under  their  respective  years;  but  to  whom  the 
transcript  says  not. 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    331 

of  their  limbes ;  and  all  the  rest,  absolute  in  their 
numbers,  as  he  conceived  them.  Who,  as  he  was 
a  happie  imitator  of  nature,  was  a  most  gentle  ex- 
presser  of  it.  His  minde  and  hand  went  together: 
and  what  he  thought,  he  uttered  with  that  easi- 
nesse,  that  wee  have  scarse  received  from  him  a 
blot  in  his  papers."  Who  now  does  not  feel  him- 
self inclin'd  to  expect  an  accurate  and  good  per- 
formance in  the  edition  of  these  prefacers  ?  But 
alas,  it  is  nothing  less :  for  (if  we  except  the  six 
spurious  ones,  whose  places  were  then  supply 'd  by 
true  and  genuine  copies)  the  editions  of  plays  pre- 
ceding the  folio,  are  the  very  basis  of  those  we  have 
there;  which  are  either  printed  from  those  editions, 
or  from  the  copies  which  they  made  use  of;  and 
this  is  principally  evident  in — "  First  and  Second 
Henry  IV.  Love's  Labour  s  Lost,  Merchant  of  Ve- 
nice, Midsummer-Nigh? s  Dream,  Much  Ado  about 
Nothing,  Richard  II.  Titus  Andronicus,  and  Troi- 
lus  and  Cressida;"  for  in  the  others  we  see  some- 
what a  greater  latitude,  as  was  observed  a  little 
above  :  but  in  these  plays,  there  is  an  almost  strict 
conformity  between  the  two  impressions  :  some  ad- 
ditions are  in  the  second,  and  some  omissions;  but 
the  faults  and  errors  of  the  quarto's  are  all  pre- 
serv'd  in  the  folio,  and  others  added  to  them;  and 
what  difference  there  is,  is  generally  for  the  worse 
on  the  side  of  the  folio  editors;  which  should  give 
us  but  faint  hopes  of  meeting  with  greater  accuracy 
in  the  plays  which  they  first  publish'd ;  and,  accord- 
ingly, we  find  them  subject  to  all  the  imperfections 
that  have  been  noted  in  the  former:  nor  is  their 
edition  in  general  distinguish'd  by  any  mark  of  pre- 
ference above  the  earliest  quarto's,  but  that  some  of 
their  plays  are  divided  into  acts,  and  some  others 
into  acts  and  scenes  ;  and  that  with  due  precision, 


332    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

and  agreeable  to  the  author's  idea  of  the  nature  of 
such  divisions.  The  order  of  printing  these  plays, 
the  way  in  which  they  are  class'd,  and  the  titles 
given  them,  being  matters  of  some  curiosity,  the 
Table  that  is  before  the  first  folio  is  here  reprinted : 
and  to  it  are  added  marks,  put  between  crotchets, 
shewing  the  plays  that  are  divided ;  a  signifying — 
acts,  a  &  s — acts  and  scenes. 


TABLE  of  Plays  in  the  folio.9 

COMEDIES.  Measure  for  Measure,  [a 

&*.]  " 

The  Tempest,     [a  &  s.]  The  Comedy  of  Errors.* 

The  Two  Gentlemen  of  [a.~\ 

Verona.*  [a  &  s.~\  Much   adoo   about  No- 

The    Merry    Wives    of  thing,  [a.] 

Windsor,  [a  &  s.]  Loves  Labour  lost.* 

9  The  plays,  mark'd  with  asterisks,  are  spoken  of  by  name,  in 
a  book,  call'd — Wit's  Treasury,  being  the  Second  Part  of  Wit's 
Commonwealth,  written  by  Francis  Meres,  at  p.  282 :  who,  in 
the  same  paragraph,  mentions  another  play  as  being  Shakspeare's, 
under  the  title  of  Loves  Labours  Wonne ;  a  title  that  seems  well 
adapted  to  All's  well  that  ends  well,  and  under  which  it  might 
be  first  acted.  In  the  paragraph  immediately  preceding,  he 
speaks  of  his  Venus  and  Adonis,  his  Lucrece,  and  his  Sonnets  : 
this  book  was  printed  in  159S,  by  P.  Short,  for  Cuthbert  Burbie  ; 
octavo,  small.  The  same  author,  at  p.  283,  mentions  too  a 
Richard  the  Third,  written  by  Doctor  Leg,  author  of  another 

Slay,  called  The  Destruction  of  Jerusalem.  And  there  is  in  the 
lusaeum,  a  manuscript  Latin  play  upon  the  same  subject, 
written  by  one  Henry  Lacy  in  1586:  which  Latin  play  is  but  a 
weak  performance ;  and  yet  seemeth  to  be  the  play  spoken  of 
by  Sir  John  Harrington,  (for  the  author  was  a  Cambridge  man, 
and  of  St.  John's,)  in  this  passage  of  his  Apologie  of  Poetrie, 
prefix'd  to  his  translation  of  Ariosto's  Orlando,  edit.  1 591,  fol : 
" — and  for  tragedies,  to  omit  other  famous  tragedies;  that, 
that  was   played  at  S.Johns  in  Cambridge  of  Richard  the  3. 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    333 


Midsommer  Nights 

Dreame.*  [a.] 
The  Merchant  oj  Venice  .* 

[a.] 
As  you  like  it.  [a  &  s.~\ 
The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 
All  is   well,  that   Ends 

well,    [a] 
Twelfe-Night,    or   what 

you  will,  [a  &  s.~\ 
The  Winters  Tale,  [a  & 

#.] 

HISTORIES. 

The  Life  and  Death  of 

King  John.*  [a  &  s.] 
The  Life    $  Death   of 

Richard  the  second.* 

[a  &  5.] 
The  First  part  of  King 

Henry  the  fourth,  [a 

ks.] 
The  Second  Part  of  K. 

Henry  the  fourth.*  [a 

&5.] 

The  Life  of  King  Henry 
the  Fift. 


The  First  part  of  King 

Henry  the  Sirt. 
The  Second  part  of  King 

Hen.  the  Sirt. 
The  Third  part  of  King 

Henry  the  Sirt 
The  Life  $  Death    of 

Richard   the  Third* 

[a  &  $.] 
The  Life  of  King  Henry 

the  Eight,  [a  &  s.] 

TRAGEDIES. 

\Troylus  and  Cressida] 

from  the  second  folio ; 

omitted  in  thefrst. 
The  Tragedy  ofCoriola- 

nus.  [a] 
Titus  Andronicus.*  [a.] 
Romeo  and  Juliet.* 
Timon  of  Athens. 
The  Life  and  death  of 

Julius  Ccesar.  [«.] 
The  Tragedy  of  Macbeth. 

\a  &  s.] 
Tne  Tragedy  of  Hamlet. 
King  Lear,  [a  &  s.] 


would  move  (I  thinke)  Phalaristhe  tyraunt,  and  tcrrifieall  tyra- 
nou«  minded  men,  fro  following  their  foolish  ambitious  humors, 
seeing  how  his  ambition  made  him  kill  his  brother,  his  nephews, 
his  wife,  beside  infinit  others  ;  and  last  of  all  after  a  short  and 
troublesome  raigne,  to  end  his  miserable  life,  and  to  have  hi.-* 
body  harried  after  his  death." 


334    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

Othello,  the  Moore  of  Ve-    Cymbe line  King  of  Bri~ 

nice,  [a  &  s.]  tame,  [a  &  s.^\ 

Antony  and  Cleopater. 

Having  premis'd  thus  much  about  the  state  and 
condition  of  these  first  copies,  it  may  not  be  im- 
proper, nor  will  it  be  absolutely  a  digression,  to 
add  something  concerning  their  authenticity :  in 
doing  which,  it  will  be  greatly  for  the  reader's 
ease, — and  our  own,  to  confine  ourselves  to  the 
quarto's :  which,  it  is  hop'd,  he  will  allow  of;  es- 
pecially, as  our  intended  vindication  of  them  will 
also  include  in  it  (to  the  eye  of  a  good  observer) 
that  of  the  plays  that  appear' d  first  in  the  folio  : 
which  therefore  omitting,  we  now  turn  ourselves 
to  the  quarto's. 

We  have  seen  the  slur  that  is  endeavour'd  to  be 
thrown  upon  them  indiscriminately  by  the  player 
editors,  and  we  see  it  too  wip'd  off  by  their  having 
themselves  follow'd  the  copies  that  they  condemn. 
A  modern  editor,  who  is  not  without  his  followers, 
is  pleas'd  to  assert  confidently  in  his  preface,  that 
they  are  printed  from  "  piece-meal  parts,  and 
copies  of  prompters :"  but  his  arguments  for  it 
are  some  of  them  without  foundation,  and  the 
others  not  conclusive;  and  it  is  to  be  doubted,  that 
the  opinion  is  only  thrown  out  to  countenance  an 
abuse  that  has  been  carry'd  to  much  too  great 
lengths  by  himself  and  another  editor, — that  of 
putting  out  of  the  text  passages  that  they  did  not 
like.  These  censures  then,  and  this  opinion  being 
set  aside,  is  it  criminal  to  try  another  conjecture, 
and  see  what  can  be  made  of  it  ?  It  is  known, 
that  Shakspeare  liv'd  to  no  great  age,  being  taken 
off  in  his  fifty-third  year ;  and  yet  his  works  are 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    335 

so  numerous,  that,  when  we  take  a  survey  of  them, 
they  seem  the  productions  of  a  life  of  twice  that 
length :  for  to  the  thirty-six  plays  in  this  collec- 
tion, we  must  add  seven,  (one  of  which  is  in  two 
parts,)  perhaps  written  over  again  ;'  seven  others 
that  were  publish'd  some  of  them  in  his  life-time, 
and  all  with  his  name ;  and  another  seven,  that  are 
upon  good  grounds  imputed  to  him ;  making  in 
all,  fifty- eight  plays ;  besides  the  part  that  he  may 
reasonably  be  thought  to  have  had  in  other  men's 
labours,  being  himself  a  player  and  a  manager  of 
theatres:  what  his   prose   productions  were,   we 
know  not :  but  it  can  hardly  be  suppos'd,  that  he, 
who  had  so  considerable  a  share  in  the  confidence 
of  the  Earls  of  Essex  and  Southampton,  could  be 
a  mute  spectator  only  of  controversies  in  which 
they  were  so  much  interested;  and  his  other  poeti- 
cal works,  that  are  known,  will  fill  a  volume  the 
size  of  these  that  we  have  here.     When  the  num- 
ber and  bulk  of  these  pieces,  the  shortness  of  his 
life,  and  the  other  busy  employments  of  it  are  re- 
flected upon  duly,  can  it  be  awonder  that  he  should 
be  so  loose  a  transcriber  of  them  ?  or  why  should 
we  refuse  to  give  credit  to  what  his  companions 
tell  us,  of  the  state  of  those  transcriptions,  and  of 
the  facility  with  which  they  were  pen'd  ?     Let  it 
then  be  granted,  that  these  quarto's  are  the  poet's 
own  copies,  however  they  were  come  by  ;  hastily 
written  at  first,  and  issuing  from  presses  most  of 
them  as  corrupt  and  licentious  as  can  any  where 
be  produe'd,  and  not  overseen  by  himself,  nor  by 
any  of  his  friends  :  and  there  can  be  no  stronger 
reason  for  subscribing  to  any  opinion,  than  may 
be  drawn  in  favour  or  this  from  the  condition  of 

1  Vide,  this  Introduction,  p.  32?. 


S36  MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

all  the  other  plays  that  were  first  printed  in  the 
folio;  for,  in  method  of  publication,  they  have 
the  greatest  likeness  possible  to  those  which  pre- 
ceded them,  and  carry  all  the  same  marks  of  haste 
and  negligence;  yet  the  genuineness  of  the  latter 
is  attested  by  those  who  publish'd  them,  and  no 
proof  brought  to  invalidate  their  testimony.  If  it 
be  still  ask'd,  what  then  becomes  of  the  accusation 
brought  against  the  quarto's  by  the  player  editors, 
the  answer  is  not  so  far  off  as  may  perhaps  be 
expected :  it  maybe  true  that  they  were  "  stoln;" 
but  stoln  from  the  author's  copies,  by  transcribers 
who  found  means  to  get  at  them:2  and  "  maim'd" 
they  must  needs  be,  in  respect  of  their  many  alter- 
ations after  the  first  performance:  and  who  knows, 
if  the  difference  that  is  between  them,  in  some  of 
the  plays  that  are  common  to  them  both,  has  not 
been  studiously  heighten'd  by  the  player  editors, — 
who  had  the  means  in  their  power,  being  masters 
of  all  the  alterations, — to  give  at  once  a  greater 
currency  to  their  own  lame  edition,  and  support 
the  charge  which  they  bring  against  the  quarto's  ? 
this,  at  least,  is  a  probable  opinion,  and  no  bad  way 
of  accounting  for  those  differences.3 

*  But  see  a  note  at  p.  330,  which  seems  to  infer  that  they  were 
fairly  come  by :  which  is,  in  truth,  the  editor's  opinion,  at  least 
of  some  of  them  ;  though,  in  way  of  argument,  and  for  the  sake 
of  clearness,  he  has  here  admitted  the  charge  in  that  full  extent 
in  which  they  bring  it. 

*  Some  of  these  alterations  are  in  the  quarto's  themselves; 
(another  proof  this,  of  their  being  authentick,)  as  in  Rich- 
ard II:  where  a  large  scene,  that  of  the  king's  deposing,  appears 
first  in  the  copy  of  1608,  the  third  quarto  impression,  being 
wanting  in  the  two  former:  and  in  one  copy  of  2  Henry  IV. 
there  is  a  scene  too  that  is  not  in  the  other,  though  of  the  same 
year;  it  is  the  first  of  Act  the  third.  And  Hamlet  has  some  still 
more  considerable;  for  the  copy  of  1605  has  these  words: — 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.   337 

It  were  easy  to  add  abundance  of  other  argu- 
ments in  favour  of  these  quarto's ; — Such  as,  their 
exact  affinity  to  almost  all  the  publications  of  this 
sort  that  came  out  about  that  time ;  of  which  it 
will  hardly  be  asserted  by  any  reasoning  man,  that 
they  are  all  clandestine  copies,  and  publish'd  with- 
out their  authors'  consent:  next,  the  high  impro- 
bability of  supposing  that  none  of  these  plays  were 
of  the  poet's  own  setting-out :  whose  case  is  ren- 
der'd  singular  by  such  a  supposition ;  it  being 
certain,  that  every  other  author  of  the  time,  with- 
out exception,  who  wrote  any  thing  largely,  pub- 
lish'd some  of  his  plays  himself,  and  Ben  Jonson  all 
of  them  :  nay,  the  very  errors  and  faults  of  these 
quarto's, — of  some  of  them  at  least,  and  those  such 
as  are  brought  against  them  by  other  arguers, — are, 
with  the  editor,  proofs  of  their  genuineness  ;  for 
from  what  hand,  but  that  of  the  author  himself, 
could  come  those  seemingly-strange  repetitions 
which  are  spoken  of  at  p.  329  ?  those  imperfect 
exits,  and  entries  of  persons  who  have  no  con- 
cern in  the  play  at  all,  neither  in  the  scene  where 
they  are  made  to  enter,  nor  in  any  other  part  of  it  ? 
yet  such  there  are  in  several  of  these  quarto's;  and 
such  might  well  be  expected  in  the  hasty  draughts 
of  so  negligent  an  author,  who  neither  saw  at 
once  all  he  might  want,  nor,  in  some  instances, 
gave  himself  sufficient  time  to  consider  the  fitness 


41  Newly  imprinted  and  enlarged  to  almost  as  much  againe  as  it 
was,  according  to  the  true  and  perfect  Coppie:*'  now  though  no 
prior  copy  h;*  yet  been  produe'd,  it  is  certain  there  was  such  by 
the  testimony  of  this  title-page:  and  that  the  play  was  in  being 
at  least  nine  years  before,  is  prov'd  by  a  book  of  Doctor  Lodge's 
printed  in  ISqO',  which  play  was  perhaps  an  imperfect  one;  and 
not  unlike  that  we  have  now  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  printed  th« 
year  alter;  u  fourth  instance  too  of  what  the  note  advances. 

VOL.   I.  Z 


538    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

of  what  he  was  then  penning.  These  and  other  like 
arguments  might,  as  is  said  before,  be  collected, 
and  urg'd  for  the  plays  that  were  first  publish'd  in 
the  quarto's;  that  is,  for  fourteen  of  them,  for  the 
other  six  are  out  of  the  question :  butwhat  has  been 
enlarg'd  upon  above,  of  their  being  follow'd  by  the 
folio,  and  their  apparent  general  likeness  to  all  the 
other  plays  that  are  in  that  collection,  is  so  very 
forcible  as  to  be  sufficient  of  itself  to  satisfy  the 
unprejudic'd,  that  the  plays  of  both  impressions 
spring  all  from  the  same  stock,  and  owe  their  nu- 
merous imperfections  to  one  common  origin  and 
cause, — the  too-great  negligence  and  haste  of  their 
over-careless  producer. 

But  to  return  to  the  thing  immediately  treated, — 
the  state  of  the  old  editions.  The  quarto's  went 
through  many  impressions,  as  may  be  seen  in  the 
Table :  and,  in  each  play,  the  last  is  generally 
taken  from  the  impression  next  before  it,  and  so 
onward  to  the  first;  the  few  that  come  not  within 
this  rule,  are  taken  notice  of  in  the  Table:  and 
this  further  is  to  be  observ'd  of  them :  that,  gene- 
rally speaking,  the  more  distant  they  are  from  the 
original,  the  more  they  abound  in  faults  ;  'till,  in 
the  end,  the  corruptions  of  the  last  copies  become 
so  excessive,  as  to  make  them  of  hardly  any  worth. 
The  folio  too  had  it's  re-impressions,  the  dates  and 
notices  of  which  are  likewise  in  the  Table,  and 
they  tread  the  same  round  as  did  the  quarto's : 
only  that  the  third  of  them  has  seven  plays  more, 
(see  their  titles  below,4)  in  which  it  is  follow'd  by 

4  Locrine ;  The  London  Prodigal;  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre; 
The  puritan ,  or,  the  Widow  of  Watling  Street ;  Sir  John  Old- 
castle  ;  Thomas  Lord  Cromwell ;  and  The  Yorkshire  Tragedy  ; 
And  the  imputed  ones,  mention'd  a  little  above,  are  these ; — 
The  Arraignment  of  Paris  ;  Birth  of  Merlin  ;  Fair  Em  ;  Ed- 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    339 

the  last;  and  that  again  by  the  first  of  the  modern 
impressions,  which  come  now  to  be  spoken  of. 

If  the  stage  be  a  mirror  of  the  times,  as  un- 
doubtedly it  is,  and  we  judge  of  the  age's  temper 
by  what  we  see  prevailing  there,  what  must  we 
think  of  the  times  that  succeeded  Sbakspeare? 
Jonson,  favour'd  by  a  court  that  delighted  only  in 
masques,  had  been  gaining  ground  upon  him  even 
in  his  life-time ;  and  his  death  put  him  in  full 
possession  of  a  post  he  had  long  aspir'd  to,  the 
empire  of  the  drama :  the  props  of  this  new  king's 
throne,  were — Fletcher,  Shirley,  Middleton,  Mas- 
singer,  Broome,  and  others;  and  how  unequal  they 
all  were,  the  monarch  and  his  subjects  too,  to  the 
poet  they  came  after,  let  their  works  testify:  yet 
they  had  the  vogue  on  their  side,  during  all  those 
blessed  times  that  preceded  the  civil  war,  and 
Shakspeare  was  held  in  disesteem.  The  war,  and 
medley  government  that  follow'd,  swept  all  these 
things  away:  but  they  were  restor'd  with  the  king; 

•ward  HI.  Merry  Devil  of  Edmonton  ;  Mucedorus ;  and  The 
Two  Noble  Kinsmen :  but  in  The  Merry  Devil  <>f  Edmonton, 
Rowley  is  call'd  his  partner  in  the  title-page  ;  and  Fletcher,  in 
The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen.  What  external  proofs  there  are  of 
their  coming  from  Shakspeare,  are  gather'd  all  together,  and 
ut  down  in  the  Table ;  and  further  it  not  concerns  us  to  engage: 
ut  let  those  who  are  inclin'd  to  dispute  it,  carry  this  along  with 
them : — that  London,  in  Shakspeare's  time,  had  a  multitude  of 

fdav houses;  erected  some  in  inn-yards,  and  such  like  places,  and 
requented  by  the  lowest  of  the  people;  such  audiences  might 
have  been  seen  some  years  ago  in  Southwark  and  Bartholomew, 
and  may  be  seen  at  this  day  in  the  country;  to  which  it  was 
also  a  custom  for  players  to  make  excursion,  at  wake  times  and 
festivals :  and  for  such  places,  and  such  occasions,  might  these 
pieces  be  compos'd  in  the  author's  early  time;  the  worst  of  them 
suiting  well  enough  to  the  parties  they  might  be  made  for : — and 
this,  or  something  nearly  of  this  sort,  may  have  been  the  case 
too  of  some  plays  in  his  great  collection,  which  shall  be  spoken 
of  in  their  place. 

z  2 


i; 


340   MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

and  another  stage  took  place,  in  which  Shakspeare 
had  little  share.  Dryden  had  then  the  lead,  and 
maintain'd  it  for  half  a  century :  though  his  go- 
vernment was  sometimes  disputed  by  Lee,  Tate, 
Shadwell,Wytcherley,  and  others;  weaken'dmuch 
by  The  Rehearsal ;  and  quite  overthrown  in  the 
end  by  Otway,  and  Rowe :  what  the  cast  of  their 
plays  was,  is  known  to  every  one :  but  that  Shak- 
speare, the  true  and  genuine  Shakspeare,  was  not 
much  relish'd,  is  plain  from  the  many  alterations 
of  him,  that  were  brought  upon  the  stage  by  some 
of  those  gentlemen,  and  by  others  within  that 
period. 

But,  from  what  has  been  said,  we  are  not  to 
conclude — that  the  poet  had  no  admirers :  for  the 
contrary  is  true ;  and  he  had  in  all  this  interval  no 
inconsiderable  party  amongst  men  of  the  greatest 
understanding,  who  both  saw  his  merit,  in  despite 
of  the  darkness  it  was  then  wrapt  up  in,  and  spoke 
loudly  in  his  praise  ;  but  the  stream  of  the  publick 
favour  ran  the  other  way.  But  this  too  coming 
about  at  the  time  we  are  speaking  of,  there  was  a 
demand  for  his  works,  and  in  a  form  that  was  more 
convenient  than  the  folio's ;  in  consequence  of 
which,  the  gentleman  last  mentioned  was  set  to 
work  by  the  booksellers;  and,  in  1709,  he  put  out 
an  edition  in  six  volumes  octavo,  which,  unhappily, 
is  the  basis  of  all  the  other  moderns :  for  this 
editor  went  no  further  than  to  the  edition  nearest 
to  him  in  time,  which  was  the  folio  of  1685,  the 
last  and  worst  of  those  impressions :  this  he  re- 
published with  great  exactness  ;  correcting  here 
and  there  some  of  it's  grossest  mistakes,  and  di- 
viding into  acts  and  scenes  the  plays  that  were  not 
divided  before. 

But  no  sooner  was  this  edition  in  the  hands  of 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    341 

the  publick,  than  they  saw  in  part  its  deficiencies, 
and  one  of  another  sort  began  to  be  required  of 
them;  which  accordingly  was  set  about  some  years 
after  by  two  gentlemen  at  once,  Mr.  Pope  and 
Mr.  Theobald.  The  labours  of  the  first  came  out 
in  1725,  in  six  volumes  quarto:  and  he  has  the 
merit  of  having  first  improv'd  his  author,  by  the 
insertion  of  many  large  passages,  speeches,  and  sin- 
gle lines,  taken  from  the  quarto's  ;  and  of  amend- 
ing him  in  other  places,  by  readings  fetch'd  from 
the  same  :  but  his  materials  were  few,  and  his  col- 
lation of  them  not  the  most  careful;  which,  join'd 
to  other  faults,  and  to  that  main  one— of  making 
his  predecessor's  the  copy  himself  follow'd,  brought 
his  labours  in  disrepute,  and  has  finally  sunk  them 
in  neglect. 

His  publication  retarded  the  other  gentleman, 
and  he  did  not  appear  'till  the  year  1733,  when  his 
work  too  came  out  in  seven  volumes,  octavo.  The 
opposition  that  was  between  them  seems  to  have 
enflam'd  him,  which  was  heighten'd  by  other  mo- 
tives, and  he  declaims  vehemently  against  thework 
of  his  antagonist :  which  yet  sery'd  him  for  a  mo- 
del ;  and  his  own  is  made  only  a  little  better,  by 
his  having  a  few  more  materials ;  of  which  he  was 
not  a  better  collator  than  the  other,  nor  did  he 
excel  him  in  use  of  them  ;  for,  in  this  article,  both 
their  judgments  may  be  equally  call'd  in  question  j 
in  what  he  has  done  that  is  conjectural,  he  is 
rather  more  happy  j  but  in  this  he  had  large  as- 
sistances. 

But  the  gentleman  that  came  next,  is  a  cri- 
tick  of  another  stamp :  and  pursues  a  track,  in 
which  it  is  greatly  to  be  hop'd  he  will  never  be 
follow'd  in  the  publication  of  any  authors  what- 
soever :  for  this  were,  in  effect,  to  annihilate  them, 


342    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

if  carry'd  a  little  further ;  by  destroying  all  marks 
of  peculiarity  and  notes  of  time,  all  easiness  of 
expression  and  numbers,  all  justness  of  thought, 
and  the  nobility  of  not  a  few  of  their  conceptions  : 
The  manner  in  which  his  author  is  treated,  excites 
an  indignation  that  will  be  thought  by  some  to 
vent  itself  too  strongly;  but  terms  weaker  would 
do  injustice  to  my  feelings,  and  the  censure  shall 
be  hazarded.  Mr.  Pope's  edition  was  the  ground- 
work of  this  over-bold  one ;  splendidly  printed  at 
Oxford  in  six  quarto  volumes,  and  publish'd  in  the 
year  1744:  the  publisher  disdains  all  collation  of 
folio,  or  quarto ;  and  fetches  all  from  his  great 
self,  and  the  moderns  his  predecessors:  wantoning 
in  very  licence  of  conjecture ;  and  sweeping  all 
before  him,  (without  notice,  or  reason  given,)  that 
not  suits  his  taste,  or  lies  level  to  his  conceptions. 
But  this  justice  should  be  done  him : — as  his  con- 
jectures are  numerous,  they  are  oftentimes  not 
unhappy;  and  some  of  them  are  of  that  excellence, 
that  one  is  struck  with  amazement  to  see  a  person 
of  so  much  judgment  as  he  shows  himself  in  them, 
adopt  a  method  of  publishing  that  runs  counter  to 
all  the  ideas  that  wise  men  have  hitherto  enter- 
tain'd  of  an  editor's  province  and  duty. 

The  year  1 747  produc'd  a  fifth  edition,  in  eight 
octavo  volumes,  publish'd  by  Mr.  Warburton ; 
which  though  it  is  said  in  the  title-page  to  be  the 
joint  work  of  himself  and  the  second  editor,  the 
third  ought  rather  to  have  been  mention'd,  for  it 
is  printed  from  his  text.  The  merits  of  this  per- 
formance have  been  so  thoroughly  discuss'd  in  two 
very  ingenious  books,  The  Canons  of  Criticism,  and 
Revisat  of  Shakspeare*  s  Text,  that  it  is  needless  to 
say  any  more  of  it :  this  only  shall  be  added  to 
what  may  be  there  met  with,— that  the  edition  is 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    343 

not  much  benefited  by  fresh  acquisitions  from  the 
old  ones,  which  this  gentleman  seems  to  have  negr 
lected.5 

Other  charges  there  are,  that  might  be  brought 
against  these  modern  impressions,  without  infring- 
ing the  laws  of  truth  or  candour  either :  but  what 
is  said,  will  be  sufficient;  and  may  satisfy  their 
greatest  favourers, — that  the  superstructure  cannot 
be  a  sound  one,  which  is  built  upon  so  bad  a  foun- 
dation as  that  work  of  Mr.  Rowe's ;  which  all  of 
them,  as  we  see,  in  succession,  have  yet  made  their 
corner-stone :  The  truth  is,  it  was  impossible  that 
such  a  beginning  should  end  better  than  it  has 
done  :  the  fault  was  in  the  setting-out ;  and  all  the 
diligence  that  could  be  us'd,  join'd  to  the  discern- 
ment of  a  Pearce,  or  a  Bentley,  could  never  purge 
their  author  of  all  his  defects  by  their  method  of 
proceeding. 

The  editor  now  before  you  was  appriz'd  in  time 
of  this  truth  ;  saw  the  wretched  condition  his  au- 
thor was  reduc'd  to  by  these  late  tamperings,  and 
thought  seriously  of  a  cure  for  it,  and  that  so  long 
ago  as  the  year  1 74.5 ;  for  the  attempt  was  first 
suggested  by  that  gentleman's  performance,  which 


*  It  will  perhaps  be  thought  strange,  that  nothing  should  be 
said  in  this  place  of  another  edition  that  came  out  about  a  twelve- 
month ago,  in  eight  volumes,  octavo  ;  but  the  reasons  for  it  are 
these  : — There  is  no  use  made  of  it,  nor  could  be  ;  for  the  pre- 
sent was  finish'd,  within  a  play  or  two,  and  printed  too  in  great 
part,  before  that  appear'd:  the  first  sheet  of  this  work  (being  the 
first  of  Vol.  II.]  went  to  the  press  in  September  1760:  and  this 
volume  was  follow'd  by  volumes  VIII.  IV.  IX.  I.  VI.  and  VII ; 
the  last  of  which  was  printed  off  in  August  17t>'5:  In  the  next 
place,  the  merits  and  demerits  of  it  are  unknown  to  the  present 
editor  even  at  this  hour:  this  only  he  has  perceiv'd  in  it,  having 
iook'd  it  but  slightly  over,  that  the  text  it  follows  is  that  of  its 
nearest  predecessor,  and  from  that  copy  it  was  printed. 


344   MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

came  out  at  Oxford  the  year  before  :  which  when 
he  had  perus'd  with  no  little  astonishment,  and 
consider'd  the  fatal  consequences  that  must  inevi- 
tably follow  the  imitation  of  so  much  licence,  he 
resolv'd  himself  to  be  the  champion  ;  and  to  exert 
to  the  uttermost  such  abilities  as  he  was  master  of, 
to  save  from  further  ruin  an  edifice  of  this  dignity, 
which  England  must  for  ever  glory  in.  Hereupon 
he  possess'd  himself  of  the  other  modern  editions, 
the  folio's,  and  as  many  quarto's  as  could  presently 
be  procur'd;  and,  within  a  few  years  after,  fortune 
and  industry  help'd  him  to  all  the  rest,  six  only 
excepted  ;6  adding  to  them  withal  twelve  more, 
which  the  compilers  of  former  tables  had  no 
knowledge  of.  Thus  furnish'd,  he  fell  immediately 
to  collation,— -which  is  the  first  step  in  works  of 
this  nature;  and,  without  it,  nothing  is  done  to 
purpose, — first  of  moderns  with  moderns,  then  of 
moderns  with  ancients,  and  afterwards  of  ancients 
with  others  more  ancient :  'till,  at  the  last,  a  ray 
of  light  broke  forth  upon  him,  by  which  he  hop'd 
to  find  his  way  through  the  wilderness  of  these 
editions  into  that  fair  country  the  poet's  real  habi- 
tation. He  had  not  proceeded  far  in  his  collation, 
before  he  saw  cause  to  come  to  this  resolution  ; — - 
to  stick  invariably  to  the  old  editions,  (that  is,  the 

8  But  of  one  of  these  six,  (a  J  Henry  IV.  edition  1604)  the 
editor  thinks  he  is  possessed  of  a  very  large  fragment,  imperfect 
only  in  the  first  and  last  sheet ;  which  has  been  collated,  as  far 
as  it  goes,  along  with  others:  And  of  the  twelve  quarto  editions, 
which  he  has  had  the  good  fortune  to  add  to  those  that  were 
known  before,  some  of  them  are  of  great  value  ;  as  may  be  seen 
by  looking  into  the  Table. 

[As  this  table  relates  chiefly  to  Mr.  Capell's  desiderata,  &c. 
(and  had  been  anticipated  by  another  table  equally  comprehen- 
sive, which  the  reader  will  find  in  the  next  volume,)  it  is  here 
omitted.] 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    3** 

best  of  them,)  which  hold  now  the  place  of  manu- 
scripts, no  scrap  of  the  author's  writing  having  the 
luck  to  come  down  to  us ;  and  never  to  depart 
from  them,  but  in  cases  where  reason,  and  the 
uniform  practice  of  men  of  the  greatest  note  in 
this  art,  tell  him — they  may  be  quitted  ;  nor  yet  in 
those,  without  notice.  But  it  will  be  necessarv, 
that  the  general  method  of  this  edition  should  now 
be  lay'd  open ;  that  the  publick  may  be  put  in  a 
capacity  not  only  of  comparing  it  with  those  they 
already  have,  but  of  judging  whether  any  thing 
remains  to  be  done  towards  the  fixing  this  author's 
text  in  the  manner  himself  gave  it. 

It  is  said  a  little  before, — that  we  have  nothing 
of  his  in  writing ;  that  the  printed  copies  are  all 
that  is  left  to  guide  us  ;  and  that  those  copies  are 
subject  to  numberless  imperfections,  but  not  all  in 
like  degree  :  our  first  business  then,  was — to  ex- 
amine their  merit,  and  see  on  which  side  the  scale 
of  goodness  preponderated ;  which  we  have  gene- 
rally found,  to  be  on  that  of  the  most  ancient :  it 
may  be  seen  in  the  Table,  what  editions  are  judg'd 
to  have  the  preference  among  those  plays  that 
were  printed  singly  in  quarto;  and  for  those  plays, 
the  text  of  those  editions  is  chiefly  adher'd  to :  in 
all  the  rest,  the  first  folio  is  follow'd ;  the  text  of 
which  is  by  far  the  most  faultless  of  the  editions 
in  that  form  ;  and  has  also  the  advantage  in  three 
quarto  plays,  in  2  Henry  IV.  Othello,  and  Richard 
III.  Had  the  editions  thus  follow'd  been  printed 
with  carefulness,  from  correct  copies,  and  copies 
not  added  to  or  otherwise  alter'd  after  those  im- 
pressions, there  had  been  no  occasion  for  going 
any  further :  but  this  was  not  at  all  the  case,  even 
in  the  best  of  them ;  and  it  therefore  became  proper 
and  necessary  to  look  into  the  other  old  editions, 


346    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

and  to  select  from  thence  whatever  improves  the 
author,  or  contributes  to  his  advancement  in  per- 
fectness,  the  point  in   view  throughout  all  this 
performance  :  that  they  do  improve  him,  was  with 
the  editor  an  argument  in  their  favour;  and  a  pre- 
sumption of  genuineness  for  what  is  thus  selected, 
whether   additions,  or  differences  of  any  other 
nature  ;  and  the  causes  of  their  appearing  in  some 
copies,  and  being  wanting  in  others,  cannot  now 
be  discover'd,  by  reason  of  the  time's  distance, 
and  defect  of  fit  materials  for  making  the  dis- 
covery.    Did  the  limits  of  his  Introduction  allow 
of  it,  the  editor  would  gladly  have  dilated  and 
treated  more  at  large  this  article  of  his  plan  ;  as 
that  which  is  of  greatest  importance,  and   most 
likely  to  be  contested  of  any  thing  in  it :  but  this 
doubt,  or  this  dissent,  (if  any  be,)  must  come  from 
those  persons  only  who  are  not  yet  possess'd  of  the 
idea  they  ought  to  entertain  of  these  ancient  im- 
pressions ;  for  of  those  who  are,  he  fully  persuades 
himself  he  shall  have  both  the  approof  and  the 
applause.     But  without  entering  further  in  this 
place  into  the  reasonableness,  or  even  necessity,  of 
so  doing,  he  does  for  the  present  acknowledge — 
that  he  has  every- where  made  use  of  such  materials 
as  he  met  with   in  other  old  copies,  which  he 
thought  improv'd  the  editions  that  are  made  the 
ground-work  of  the  present  text :  and  whether 
they  do  so  or  no,  the  judicious  part  of  the  world 
may  certainly  know,  by  turning  to  a  collection  that 
will  be  publish'd;  where  all  discarded  readings  are 
enter'd,  all  additions  noted,  and  variations  of  every 
kind  ;  and  the  editions  specify'd,  to  which  they  se- 
verally belong. 

But,  when  these  helps  were  administer'd,  there 
was  yet  behind  a  very  great  number  of  passages, 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    347 

labouring  undervarious  defects  and  those  of  various 
degree,  that  had  their  cure  to  seek  from  some  other 
sources,  that  of  copies  atfbrding  it  no  more :  For 
these  he  had  recourse  in  the  first  place  to  the 
assistance  of  modern  copies  :  and,  where  that  was 
incompetent,  or  else  absolutely  deficient,  which 
was  very  often  the  case,  there  he  sought  the  remedy 
in  himself,  using  judgment  and  conjecture;  which, 
he  is  bold  to  say,  he  will  not  be  found  to  have 
exercis'd  wantonly,  but  to  follow  the  establish'd 
rules  of  critique  with  soberness  and  temperance. 
These  emendations,  (whether  of  his  own,  or  other 
gentlemen,7)  carrying  in  themselves  a  face  of  cer- 
tainty, and  coining  in  aid  of  places  that  were  ap- 
parently corrupt,  are  admitted  into  the  text,  and 
the  rejected  reading  is  always  put  below ;  some 
others, — that  are  neither  of  that  certainty,  nor  are 
of  that  necessity,  but  are  specious  and  plausible, 
and  may  be  thought  by  some  to  mend  the  passage 
they  belong  to, — will  have  a  place  in  the  collection 
that  is  spoken  of  above.  But  where  it  is  said,  that 
the  rejected  reading  is  always  put  below,  this  must 
be  taken  with  some  restriction  :  for  some  of  the 


7  In  the  manuscripts  from  which  all  these  plays  are  printed, 
the  emendations  are  given  to  their  proper  owners  by  initials  and 
other  marks  that  are  in  the  mar  in  of  those  manuscripts ;  but 
they  are  suppressed  in  the  print  for  two  reasons :  First,  their 
number,  in  some  pages,  makes  them  a  little  unsightly :  and  the 
editor  proteges  himself  weak  enough  to  like  a  well-printed 
book  :  In  the  next  place,  he  does  declare— that  his  only  object 
has  been,  to  do  service  to  his  great  author;  which  provided  it 
be  done,  he  thinks  it  of  small  importance  by  what  hand  the  ser- 
vice was  administer'd  :  If  the  partizans  of  former  editors  shall 
chance  to  think  them  injur'd  by  this  suppression,  he  must  upon 
this  occasion  violate  the  rules  of  modesty,  by  declaring — that  he 
himself  is  the  most  injur'd  by  it ;  whose  emendations  are  equal, 
at  leafct  in  number,  to  all  theirs  if  put  together  ;  to  say  nothing 
of  his  recover 'd  readings,  which  are  more  considerable  still. 


348    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

emendations,  and  of  course  the  ancient  readings 
upon  which  they  are  grounded,  being  of  a  com- 
plicated nature,  the  general  method  was  there  in- 
convenient ;  and,  for  these  few,  you  are  refer'd  to 
a  note  which  will  be  found  among  the  rest:  and 
another  sort  there  are,  that  are  simply  insertions; 
these  are  effectually  pointed  out  by  being  printed 
in  the  gothick  or  black  character. 

Hitherto,  the  defects  and  errors  of  these  old 
editions  have  been  of  such  a  nature,  that  we  could 
lay  them  before  the  reader,  and  submit  to  his  judg- 
ment the  remedies  that  are  apply'd  to  them;  which 
is  accordingly  done,  either  in  the  page  itself  where 
they  occur,  or  in  some  note  that  is  to  follow :  but 
there  are  some  behind  that  would  not  be  so  ma- 
nag'd  ;  either  by  reason  of  their  frequency,  or  dif- 
ficulty of  subjecting  them  to  the  rules  under  which 
the  others  are  brought:  they  have  been  spoken  of 
before  at  p.  329,  where  the  corruptions  are  all  enu- 
merated, and  are  as  follows; — a  want  of  proper 
exits  and  entrances,  and  of  many  scenical  direc- 
tions, throughout  the  work  in  general,  and,  in  some 
of  the  plays,  a  want  of  division ;  and  the  errors  are 
those  of  measure,  and  punctuation  :  all,  these  are 
mended,  and  supply'd,  without  notice  and  silently; 
but  the  reasons  for  so  doing,  and  the  method  ob- 
serv'd  in  doing  it,  shall  be  a  little  enlarg'd  upon, 
that  the  fidelity  of  the  editor,  and  that  which  is 
chiefly  to  distinguish  him  from  those  who  have 
gone  before,  may  stand  sacred  and  unimpeach- 
able ;  and,  first,  of  the  division. 

The  thing  chiefly  intended  in  reprinting  the  list 
of  titles  that  may  be  seen  at  p.  332,  was, — to  show 
which  plays  were  divided  into  acts,  which  into 
acts  and  scenes,  and  which  of  them  were  not  di- 
vided at  all ;  and  the  number  of  the  first  class  is — 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    349 

eight;  of  the  third — eleven:  for  though  in  Henry  V. 
1  Henry  VI.  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  and  The  Ta- 
ming of' the  Shrew,  there  is  some  division  aim'd  at; 
yet  it  is  so  lame  and  erroneous,  that  it  was  thought 
best  to  consider  them  as  totally  undivided,  and  to 
rank  them  accordingly :  now  when  these  plays  were 
to  be  divided,  as  well  those  of  the  first  class  as  those 
of  the  third,  the  plays  of  the  second  class  were 
studiously  attended  to  ;  and  a  rule  was  pick'd  out 
from  them,  by  which  to  regulate  this  division  : 
which  rule  might  easily  have  been  discover'd  be- 
fore, had  but  any  the  least  pains  have  been  be- 
stow'd  upon  it ;  and  certainly  it  was  very  well 
worth  it,  since  neither  can  the  representation  be 
manag'd,  nor  the  order  and  thread  of  the  fable  be 
properly  conceiv'd  by  the  reader,  'till  this  article 
is  adjusted.     The  plays  that  are  come  down  to  us 
divided,  must  be  look'd  upon  as  of  the  author's 
own  settling;  and  in  them,  with  regard  to  acts,  we 
find  him  following  establish'd  precepts,  or,  rather, 
conforming  himself  to  the  practice  of  some  other 
dramatick  writers  of  his  time  ;  for  they,  it  is  likely, 
and  nature,  were  the  books  he  was  best  acquainted 
with  :  his  scene  divisions  he  certainly  did  not  fetch 
from  writers  upon  the  drama ;  for,  in  them,  he  ob- 
serves a  method  in  which  perhaps  he  is  singular, 
and  he  is  invariable  in  the  use  of  it :  with  him,  a 
change  of  scene  implies  generally  a  change  of  place, 
though  not  always ;  but  always  an  entire  evacua- 
tion of  it,  and  a  succession  of  new  persons  :  that 
liaison  of  the  scenes,  which  Jonson  seems  to  have 
attempted,  and  upon  which  the  French  stage  prides 
itself,  he  does  not  appear  to  have  had  any  idea  of; 
of  the  other  unities  he  was  perfectly  well  appriz'd  ; 
and  has  follow'd  them,  in  one  of  his  plays,  with 
as  great  strictness  and  greater  happiness  than  can 


350    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

perhaps  be  met  with  in  any  other  writer  :  the  play 
meant  is  The  Comedy  of  Errors ;  in  which  the 
action  is  one,  the  place  one,  and  the  time  such  as 
even  Aristotle  himself  would  allow  of-~*-the  revolu- 
tion of  half  a  day :  but  even  in  this  play,  the  change 
of  scene  arises  from  change  of  persons,  and  by  that 
it  is  regulated  ;  as  are  also  all  the  other  plays  that 
are  not  divided  in  the  folio :  for  whoever  will  take 
the  trouble  to  examine  those  that  are  divided,  (and 
they  are  pointed  out  for  him  in  the  list,)  will  see 
them  conform  exactly  to  the  rule  above-mention'd; 
and  can  then  have  but  little  doubt,  that  it  should 
be  apply'd  to  all  the  rest.8  To  have  distinguish^ 
these  divisions, — made  (indeed)  without  the  autho- 
rity, but  following  the  example  of  the  folio, — had 
been  useless  and  troublesome  ;  and  the  editor  fully 
persuades  himself,  that  what  he  has  said  will  be 
sufficient,  and  that  he  shall  be  excus'd  by  the 
ingenious  and  candid  for  overpassing  them  without 
further  notice :  whose  pardon  he  hopes  also  to 
have  for  some  other  unnotic'd  matters  that  are 
related  to  this  in  hand,  such  as — marking  the  place 
of  action,  both  general  and  particular  ;  supplying 
scenical  directions ;  and  due  regulating  of  exits, 
and  entrances :  for  the  first,  there  is  no  title  in  the 
old  editions ;  and  in  both  the  latter,  they  are  so 
deficient  and  faulty  throughout,  that  it  would  not 
be  much  amiss  if  we  look'd  upon  them  as  wanting 
too  ;  and  then  all  these  several  articles  might  be 

•  The  divisions  that  are  in  the  folio  are  religiously  adher'd  to, 
except  in  two  or  three  instances  which  will  be  spoken  of  in  their 
place  ;  so  that,  as  is  said  before,  a  perusal  of  those  old-divided 
plays  will  put  every  one  in  a  capacity  of  judging  whether  the 
present  editor  has  proceeded  rightly  or  no :  the  current  editions 
are  divided  in  such  a  manner,  that  nothing  like  a  rule  can  be 
collected  from  any  of  them. 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    3SI 

consider'd  as  additions,  that  needed  no  other  point- 
ing out  than  a  declaration  that  they  are  so :  the 
light  they  throw  upon  the  plays  in  general,  and 
particularly  upon  some  parts  of  them, — such  as, 
the  battle  scenes  throughout;  Caesar's  passage  to 
the  senate-house,  and  subsequent  assassination ; 
Antony's  death  ;  the  surprizal  and  death  of  Cleo- 
patra ;  that  of  Titus  Andronicus;  and  a  multitude 
of  others,  which  are  all  directed  new  in  this  edi- 
tion,— will  justify  these  insertions  ;  and  may,  pos- 
sibly, merit  the  reader's  thanks,  for  the  great  aids 
which  they  afford  to  his  conception. 

It  remains  now  to  speak  of  errors  of  the  old 
copies  which  are  here  amended  without  notice,  to 
wit — the  pointing,  and  wrong  division  of  much  of 
them  respecting  the  numbers.  And  as  to  the  first, 
it  is  so  extremely  erroneous,  throughout  all  the 
plays,  and  in  every  old  copy,  that  small  regard  is 
due  to  it ;  and  it  becomes  an  editor's  duty,  (instead 
of  being  influenc'd  by  such  a  punctuation,  or  even 
casting  his  eyes  upon  it,  to  attend  closely  to  the 
meaning  of  what  is  before  him,  and  to  new-point 
it  accordingly:  was  it  the  business  of  this  edition — 
to  make  parade  of  discoveries,  this  article  alone 
would  have  afforded  ample  field  for  it ;  for  a  very 
great  number  of  passages  are  now  first  set  to  rights 
by  this  only,  which,  before,  had  either  no  sense  at 
all,  or  one  unsuiting  the  context,  and  unworthy  the 
noble  penner  of  it ;  but  all  the  emendations  of  this 
sort,  though  inferior  in  merit  to  no  others  whatso- 
ever, are  consign'd  to  silence ;  some  few  only  ex- 
cepted, of  passages  that  have  been  much  contested, 
and  whose  present  adjustment  might  possibly  be 
call'd  in  question  again  ;  these  will  be  spoken  of  in 
some  note,  and  a  reason  given  for  embracing  them : 
all  the  other  parts  of  the  works  have  been  examin'd 


352    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

with  equal  diligence,  and  equal  attention;  and  the 
editor  flatters  himself,  that  the  punctuation  he  has 
follow'd,  (into  which  he  has  admitted  some  novel- 
ties,9) will  be  found  of  so  much  benefit  to  his 
author,  that  those  who  run  may  read,  and  that  with 
profit  and  understanding.  The  other  great  mistake 
in  these  old  editions,  and  which  is  very  insufficiently 
rectify'd  in  any  of  the  new  ones,  relates  to  the 
poet's  numbers  ;  his  verse  being  often  wrong  di- 
vided, or  printed  wholly  as  prose,  and  his  prose 
as  often  printed  like  verse :  this,  though  not  so 
universal  as  their  wrong  pointing,  is  yet  so  exten- 
sive an  error  in  the  old  copies,  and  so  impossible 
to  be  pointed  out  otherwise  than  by  a  note,  that 
an  editor's  silent  amendment  of  it  is  surely  par- 
donable at  least ;  for  who  would  not  be  disgusted 
with  that  perpetual  sameness  which  must  neces- 
sarily have  been  in  all  the  notes  of  this  sort?  Nei- 
ther are  they,  in  truth,  emendations  that  require 
proving ;  every  good  ear  does  immediately  adopt 
them,  and  every  lover  of  the  poet  will  be  pleas'd 
with  that  accession  of  beauty  which  results  to  him 
from  them :  it  is  perhaps  to  be  lamented,  that  there 
is  yet  standing  in  his  works  much  unpleasing  mix- 
ture of  prosaick  and  metrical  dialogue,  and  some- 
times in  places  seemingly  improper,  as — in  Othello, 
Vol.  XIX.  p.  273;  and  some  others  which  men  of 
judgment  will  be  able  to  pick  out  for  themselves : 
but  these  blemishes  are  not  now  to  be  wip'd  away, 
at  least  not  by  an  editor,  whose  province  it  far  ex- 

9  If  the  use  of  these  new  pointings,  and  also  of  certain  marks 
that  he  will  meet  with  in  this  edition,  do  not  occur  immediately 
to  the  reader,  (as  we  think  it  will)  he  may  find  it  explain'd  to 
him  at  large  in  the  preface  to  a  little  octavo  volume  intitl'd — 
*'  Prolusions,  or,  Select  Pieces  of  Ancient  Poetry;"  publish'd  in 
1760  by  this  editor,  and  printed  for  Mr.  Tonson. 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    35$ 

ceeds  to  make  a  change  of  this  nature ;  but  must 
remain  as  marks  of  the  poet's  negligence,  and  of 
the  haste  with  which  his  pieces  were  compos'd : 
what  he  manifestly  intended  prose,  (and  we  can 
judge  of  his  intentions  only  from  what  appears  in 
the  editions  that  are  come  down  to  us,)  should  be 
printed  as  prose,  what  verse  as  verse  ;  which,  it  is 
hop'd,  is  now  done,  with  an  accuracy  that  leaves 
no  great  room  for  any  further  considerable  im- 
provements in  that  way. 

Thus  have  we  run  through,  in  as  brief  a  man- 
ner as  possible,  all  the  several  heads,  of  which  it 
was  thought  proper  and  even  necessary  that  the 
publick  should  be  appriz'd  ;  as  well  those  that 
concern  preceding  editions,  both  old  and  new  ;  as 
the  other  which  we  have  just  quitted, — the  method 
observ'd  in  the  edition  that  is  now  before  them : 
which  though  not  so  entertaining,  it  is  confess'd, 
nor  affording  so  much  room  to  display  the  parts  and 
talents  of  a  writer,  as  some  other  topicks  that  have 
generally  supply'd  the  place  of  them  ;  such  as — 
criticisms  or  panegy ricks  upon  the  author,  histo- 
rical anecdotes,  essays,  and  Jiorilegia ;  yet  there 
will  be  found  some  odd  people,  who  may  be  apt  to 
pronounce  of  them — that  they  are  suitable  to  the 
place  they  stand  in,  and  convey  all  the  instruction 
that  should  be  look'd  for  in  a  preface.  Here,  there- 
fore, we  might  take  our  leave  of  the  reader,  bid- 
ding him  welcome  to  the  banquet  that  is  set  before 
him;  were  it  not  apprehended,  and  reasonably,  that 
he  will  expect  some  account  why  it  is  not  serv'd 
up  to  him  at  present  with  it's  accustom'd  and  laud- 
able garniture,  of"  Notes,  Glossaries,"  &c.  Now 
though  it  might  be  reply'd,  as  a  reason  for  what  is 
done, — that  a  very  great  part  of  the  world,  amongst 
whom  is  the  editor  himself,  profess  much  dislike 

vol .  I.  A  A 


354   MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

to  this  paginary  intermixture  of  text  and  com- 
ment; in  works  meerly  of  entertainment,  and 
written  in  the  language  of  the  country ;  as  also — 
that  he,  the  editor,  does  not  possess  the  secret  of 
dealing  out  notes  by  measure,  and  distributing 
them  amongst  his  volumes  so  nicely  that  the  equa- 
lity of  their  bulk  shall  not  be  broke  in  upon  the 
thickness  of  a  sheet  of  paper ;  yet,  having  other 
matter  at  hand  which  he  thinks  may  excuse  him 
better,  he  will  not  have  recourse  to  these  above- 
mention'd :  which  matter  is  no  other,  than  his 
very  strong  desire  of  approving  himself  to  the 
publick  a  man  of  integrity;  and  of  making  his 
future  present  more  perfect,  and  as  worthy  of  their 
acceptance  as  his  abilities  will  let  him.  For  the 
explaining  of  what  is  said,  which  is  a  little  wrap'd 
up  in  mystery  at  present,  we  must  inform  that 
publick — that  another  work  is  prepar'd,  and  in 
great  forwardness,  having  been  wrought  upon  many 
years ;  nearly  indeed  as  long  as  the  work  which  is 
now  before  them,  for  they  have  gone  hand  in 
hand  almost  from  the  first :  this  work,  to  which 
we  have  given  for  title  The  School  of  Shakspeare, 
consists  wholly  of  extracts,  (with  observations  upon 
some  of  them,  interspers'd  occasionally,)  from 
books  that  may  properly  be  call'd — his  school ;  as 
they  are  indeed  the  sources  from  which  he  drew 
the  greater  part  of  his  knowledge  in  mythology 
and  classical  matters,1  his  fable, his  history,  and  even 


1  Though  our  expressions,  as  we  think,  are  sufficientlyguarded 
in  this  place,  yet,  being  fearful  of  misconstruction,  we  desire  to 
be  heard  further  as  to  this  affair  of  his  learning.  Jt  is  our  firm 
belief  then, — that  Shakspeare  was  very  well  grounded,  at  least 
in  Latin,  at  school :  It  appears  from  the  clearest  evidence  pos- 
sible, that  his  father  was  a  man  of  no  little  substance,  and  very 
well  able  to  give   him  such    education  ;  which,  perhaps,  he 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    355 

the  seeming  peculiarities  of  his  language  :  to  fur- 
nish out  these  materials,  all  the  plays  have  been 

might  be  inclin'd  to  carry  further,  by  sending  him  to  a  univer- 
sity ;  but  was  prevented  in  this  design  ( if  he  had  it )  by  his  son's 
early  marriage,  which,  from  monuments,  and  other  like  evidence, 
it  appears  with  no  less  certainty,  must  have  happen'd  before  he 
was  seventeen,  or  very  soon  after :  the  displeasure  of  his  father, 
which  was  the  consequence  of  this  marriage,  or  else  some  ex- 
cesses which  he  is  said  to  have  been  guilty  of,  it  is  probable, 
drove  him  up  to  town ;  where  he  engag'd  early  in  some  of  the 
theatres,  and  was  honour'd  with  the  patronage  of  the  Earl  of 
Soutbampton  :  his  Venus  and  Adonis  is  address'd  to  the  Earl  in 
a  very  pretty  and  modest  dedication,  in  which  he  calls  it — "  the 
first  heire  of  his  invention;"  and  ushers  it  to  the  world  with  this 
singular  motto, — 

"  Vilia  miretur  vulgus,  mihi  flavus  Apollo 
"  Pocula  Castalia  plena  ministret  aqua;'' 
and  the  whole  poem,  as  well  as  his  Liccrece,  which  follow'd  it 
soon  after,  together  with  his  choice  of  those  subjects,  are  plain 
marks  of  his  acquaintance  with  some  of  the  Latin  classicks,  at 
least  at  that  time:  The  dissipation  of  jouth,  and,  when  that  was 
over,  the  busy  scene  in  which  he  instantly  plung'd  himself,  may 
very  well  be  suppns'd  to  have  hinder'd  his  making  any  great 
progress  in  them  ;  but  that  such  a  mind  as  his  should  quite  lose 
the  tincture  of  any  knowledge  it  had  once  been  imbu'd  with,  can 
not  be  imagiu'd  :  accordingly  we  see,  that  this  school-learning 
(for  it  was  no  more)  stuck  with  him  to  the  last ;  and  it  was  the 
recordations,  as  we  may  call  it,  of  that  learning  which  produe'd 
the  Latin  that  is  in  many  of  his  plays,  and  most  plentifully  in 
those  that  are  most  early  :  every  several  piece  of  it  is  aptly  in- 
troduced, given  to  a  proper  character,  and  utter'd  upon  some 
proper  occasion ;  and  so  well  cemented,  as  it  were,  andjoin'd 
to  the  passage  it  stands  in,  as  to  deal  conviction  to  the  judi- 
cious— that  the  whole  was  wrought  up  together,  aud  fetch'd 
from  his  own  little  store,  upon  the  sudden  and  without  study. 

The  other  languages,  which  he  has  sometimes  made  use  of, 
that  is — the  Italian  and  French,  are  not  of  such  difficult  con- 
quest that  we  should  think  them  beyond  his  reach:  an  acquaint- 
ance with  the  first  of  them  was  a  sort  of  fashion  in  his  time; 
Surrey  and  the  sonnet-writers  set  it  on  foot,  and  it  was  continu'd 
by  Sidney  and  Spen^-er:  all  our  poetry  issu'd  from  that  school; 
and  it  would  be  wonderful,  indeed,  if  he,  whom  we  saw  a  little 
before  putting  himself  with  so  much  zeal  under  the  banner  of 

A   A  '2 


356    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

perus'd,  within  a  very  small  number,  that  were  in 
print  in  his  time  or  some  short  time  after ;  the 

the  muses,  should  not  have  been  tempted  to  taste  at  least  of  that 
fountain  to  which  of  all  his  other  brethren  there  was  such  con- 
tinual resort :  let  us  conclude  then,  that  he  did  taste  of  it ;  but, 
happily  for  himself,  and  more  happy  for  the  world  that  en- 
joys him  now,  he  did  not  find  it  to  his  relish,  and  threw  away 
the  cup:  metaphor  apart,  it  is  evident — that  he  had  some  little 
knowledge  of  the  Italian :  perhaps,  just  as  much  as  enabl'd  him 
to  read  a  novel  or  a  poem ;  and  to  put  some  few  fragments  of  it, 
%vith  which  his  memory  furnish'd  him,  into  the  mouth  of  a  pedant, 
or  fine  gentleman. 

How  or  when  he  acquir'd  it  we  must  be  content  to  be  ignorant, 
but  of  the  French  language  he  was  somewhat  a  greater  master 
than  of  the  two  that  have  gone  before ;  yet,  unless  we  except 
their  novelists,  he  does  not  appear  to  have  had  much  acquaint- 
ance with  any  of  their  writers ;  what  he  has  given  us  of  it  is 
meerly  colloquial,  flows  with  great  ease  from  him,  and  is  reason- 
ably pure:  Should  it  be  said — he  had  travel'd  for't,  we  know  not 
who  can  confute  us:  in  his  days  indeed,  and  with  people  of  his 
station,  the  custom  of  doing  so  was  rather  rarer  than  in  ours ; 
yet  we  have  met  with  an  example,  and  in  his  own  band  of  play- 
ers, in  the  person  of  the  very  famous  Mr.  Kempe  ;  of  whose 
travels  there  is  mention  in  .*;  silly  old  play,  call'd — The  Return 
from  Parnassus,  printed  in  1606,  but  written  much  earlier  in 
the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth  :  add  to  this — the  exceeding  great 
liveliness  and  justness  that  is  seen  in  many  descriptions  of  the  sea 
and  of  promontories,  which,  ifexamin'd,  shew  another  sort  of 
knowledge  of  them  than  is  to  be  gotten  in  books  or  relations; 
and  if  these  be  lay'd  together,  this  conjecture  of  his  travelling 
may  not  be  thought  void  of  probability. 

One  opinion,  we  are  sure,  which  is  advanc'd  somewhere  or 
other,  is  utterly  so  ; — that  this  Latin,  and  this  Italian,  and  the 
language*  that  was  last  mention'd,  are  insertions  and  the  work  of 
some  other  hand  :  there  has  been  started  now  and  then  in  philo- 
logical matters  a  proposition  so  strange  as  to  carry  its  own  con- 
demnation in  it,  and  this  is  of  the  number;  it  has  been  honour'd 
already  with  more  notice  than  it  is  any  ways  intitl'd  to,  where 
the  poet's  Latin  is  spoke  of  a  little  while  before  ;  to  which  an- 
swer it  must  be  left,  and  we  shall  pass  on — to  profess  our  entire 
belief  of  the  genuineness  of  every  several  part  of  this  work,  and 
that  he  only  was  the  author  of  it :  he  might  write  beneath  him- 
self at  particular  times,  and  certainly  does  in  some  places  ;  but 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    357 

chroniclers  his  contemporaries,  or  that  a  little  pre- 
ceded him  ;  many  original  poets  of  that  age,  and 
many  translators;  with  essayists,  novellists,  and 
story-mongers  in  great  abundance  :  every  book,  in 
short,  has  been  consulted  that  it  was  possible  to 
procure,  with  which  it  could  be  thought  he  was 
acquainted,  or  that  seem'd  likely  to  contribute  any 
thing  towards  his  illustration.  To  what  degree 
they  illustrate  him,  and  in  how  new  a  light  they 
set  the  character  of  this  great  poet  himself  can 
never  be  conceiv'd  as  it  should  be,  'till  these  ex- 
tracts come  forth  to  the  publick  view,  in  their  just 
magnitude,  and  properly  dige'sted  :  for  besides  the 
various  passages  that  he  has  either  made  use  of  or 
alluded  to,  many  other  matters  have  been  selected 
and  will  be  found  in  this  work,  tending  all  to  the 
same  end,— our  better  knowledge  of  him  and  his 
writings;  and  one  class  of  them  there  is,  for  which 
we  shall  perhaps  be  censur'd  as  being  too  profuse 
in  them,  namely — the  almost  innumerable  exam- 
ples, drawn  from  these  ancient  writers,  of  words 
and  modes  ot^  expression  which  many  have  thought 

he  is  not  always  without  excuse  ;  and  it  frequently  happens  that 
a  weak  scene  serves  to  very  good  purpose,  as  will  be  made  ap- 
pear at  one  time  or  other.  It  may  be  thought  that  there  is  one 
argument  still  unanswer'd,  which  has  been  brought  against  his 
acquaintance  with  the  Latin  and  other  languages  ;  and  that  is, — 
that,  had  he  been  so  acquainted,  it  could  not  have  happen'dbut 
that  some  imitations  would  have  crept  into  his  writings,  of  which 
certainly  there  are  none :  but  this  argument  has  been  answer'd 
in  efTect ;  when  it  was  said — that  his  knowledge  in  these  lan- 
guages was  but  slender,  and  his  conversation  with  the  writers  in 
them  slender  too  of  course :  but  had  it  been  otherwise,  and  he 
as  deeply  read  in  them  as  some  people  have  thought  him,  his 
works  (it  is  probable)  had  been  as  little  deform'd  with  imitations 
as  we  now  see  them  :  Shakspeare  was  far  above  such  a  practice  ; 
he  had  the  stores  in  himself,  and  wanted  not  the  assistance  of  a 
foreign  hand  to  dress  him  upU  things  of  their  lending. 


358    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

peculiar  to  Shakspeare,  and  have  been  too  apt  to 
impute  to  him  as  a  blemish  :  but  the  quotations  of 
this  class  do  effectually  purge  him  from  such  a 
charge,  which  is  one  reason  of  their  profusion ; 
though  another  main  inducement  to  it  has  been,  a 
desire  of  shewing  the  true  force  and  meaning  of 
the  aforesaid  unusual  words  and  expressions;  which 
can  no  way  be  better  ascertain'd,  than  by  a  proper 
variety  of  well-chosen  examples.  Now, — to  bring 
this  matter  home  to  the  subject  for  which  it  has 
been  alledg'd,  and  upon  whose  account  this  affair 
is  now  lay'd  before  the  publick  somewhat  before 
it's  time, — who  is  so  short-sighted  as  not  to  per- 
ceive, upon  first  reflection,  that,  without  manifest 
injustice,  the  notes  upon  this  author  could  not 
precede  the  publication  of  the  work  we  have  been 
describing ;  whose  choicest  materials  would  un- 
avoidably and  certainly  have  found  a  place  in  those 
notes,  and  so  been  twice  retail'd  upon  the  world  ; 
a  practice  which  the  editor  has  often  condemn'd  in 
others,  and  could  therefore  not  resolve  to  be  guilty 
of  in  himself?  By  postponing  these  notes  a  while, 
things  will  be  as  they  ought :  they  will  then  be 
confm'd  to  that  which  is  their  proper  subject,  ex- 
planation alone,  intermix'd  with  some  little  criti- 
cism; and  instead  of  long  quotations,  which  would 
otherwise  have  appear'd  in  them,  the  School  of 
Shakspeare  will  be  referr'd  to  occasionally;  and  one 
of  the  many  indexes  with  which  this  same  School 
will  be  provided,  will  afford  an  ampler  and  truer 
Glossary  than  can  be  made  out  of  any  other  matter. 
In  the  mean  while,  and  'till  such  time  as  the  whole 
can  be  got  ready,  and  their  way  clear'd  for  them 
by  publication  of  the  book  above  mention'd,  the 
reader  will  please  to  take  in  good  part  some 
few  of  these  notes  with  which  he  will  be  pre- 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    359 

sented  by  and  by :  they  were  written  at  least  four 
years  ago,  with  intention  of  placing  them  at  the 
head  of  the  several  notes  that  are  design'd  for  each 
play;  but  are  now  detach'd  from  their  fellows,  and 
made  parcel  oP  the  Introduction,  in  compliance 
with  some  friends'  opinion ;  who  having  given 
them  a  perusal,  will  needs  have  it,  that  'tis  expe- 
dient the  world  should  be  made  acquainted  forth- 
with— in  what  sort  of  reading  the  poor  poet  him- 
self, and  his  editor  after  him,  have  been  unfortu- 
nately immers'd. 

This  discourse  is  run  out,  we  know  not  how, 
into  greater  heap  of  leaves*  than  was  any  ways 
thought  of,  and  has  perhaps  fatigu'd  the  reader 
equally  with  the  penner  of  it :  yet  can  we  not  dis- 
miss him,  nor  lay  down  our  pen,  'till  one  article 
more  has  been  enquir'd  into,  which  seems  no  less 
proper  for  the  discussion  of  this  place,  than  one 
which  we  have  inserted  before,  beginning  at  p.  333; 
as  we  there  ventur'd  to  stand  up  in  the  behalf  of 
some  of  the  quarto's  and  maintain  their  authenti- 
city, so  mean  we  to  have  the  hardiness  here  to 
defend  some  certain  plays  in  this  collection  from 
the  attacks  of  a  number  of  writers  who  have  thought 
fit  to  call  in  question  their  genuineness  :  the  plays 
contested  are — The  Three  Parts  of  Henry  VI.; 
Love's  Labour's  Lost;  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew; 
and  Titus  Andronicus;  and  the  sum  of  what  is 
brought  against  them,  so  far  at  least  as  is  hitherto 
come  to  knowledge,  may  be  all  ultimately  resolv'd 
into  the  sole  opinion  of  their  unworthiness,  exclu- 
sive of  some  weak  surmises  which  do  not  deserve  a 
notice:  it  is  therefore  fair  and  allowable,  by  all  laws 
of  duelling,  to  oppose  opinion  to  opinion  ;  which 
if  we  can  strengthen  with  reasons,  and  something 


360    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

like  proofs,  which  are  totally  wanting  on  the  other 
side,  the  last  opinion  may  chance  to  carry  the 
day. 

To  begin  then  with  the  first  of  them,  the 
Heniy  VI.  in  three  parts.  We  are  quite  in  the 
dark  as  to  when  the  first  part  was  written ;  but 
sould  be  apt  to  conjecture,  that  it  was  some  consi- 
derable time  after  the  other  two ;  and,  perhaps, 
when  those  two  were  re-touch'd,  and  made  a  little 
fitter  than  they  are  in  their  first  draught  to  rank 
with  the  author's  other  plays  which  he  has  fetch'd 
from  our  English  history:  and  those  two  parts,  even 
with  all  their  re-touchings,  being  still  much  inferior 
to  the  other  plays  of  that  class,  he  may  reasonably 
be  suppos'd  to  have  underwrit  himself  on  purpose 
in  the  first,  that  it  might  the  better  match  with 
those  it  belong'd  to :  now  that  these  two  plays 
(the  first  draughts  of  them,  at  least,)  are  among 
his  early  performances,  we  know  certainly  from 
their  date;  which  is  further  confirm'd  by  the  two 
concluding  lines  of  his  Henry  V.  spoken  by  the 
Chorus  ;  and  (possibly)  it  were  not  going  too  far, 
to  imagine — that  they  are  his  second  attempt  in 
history,  and  near  in  time  to  his  original  King  John, 
which  is  also  in  two  parts  :  and,  if  this  be  so,  we 
may  safely  pronounce  them  his,  and  even  highly 
worthy  of  him  ;  it  being  certain,  that  there  was  no 
English  play  upon  the  stage,  at  that  time,  which 
can  come  at  all  in  competition  with  them ;  and 
this  probably  it  was,  which  procur'd  them  the 
good  reception  that  is  mention'd  too  in  the  Chorus. 
The  plays  we  are  now  speaking  of  have  been  in- 
conceiveably  mangl'd  either  in  the  copy  or  the 
press,  or  perhaps  both  :  yet  this  may  be  discover'd 
in  them, — that  the  alterations  made  afterwards  by 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    361 

the  author  are  nothing  near  so  considerable  as 
those  in  some  other  plays ;  the  incidents,  the  cha- 
racters, every  principal  outline  in  short  being  the 
same  in  both  draughts;  so  that  what  we  shall  have 
occasion  to  say  of  the  second,  may,  in  some  degree, 
and  without  much  violence,  be  apply'd  also  to  the 
first :  and  this  we  presume  to  say  of  it ; — that,  low 
as  it  must  be  set  in  comparison  with  his  other 
plays,  it  has  beauties  in  it,  and  grandeurs,  of  which 
no  other  author  was  capable  but  Shakspeare  only: 
that  extreamly- affecting  scene  of  the  death  of 
young  Rutland,  that  of  his  father  which  comes 
next  it,  and  of  Clifford  the  murtherer  of  them 
both  ;  Beaufort's  dreadful  exit,  the  exit  of  King 
Henry,  and  a  scene  of  wondrous  simplicity  and 
wondrous  tenderness  united,  in  which  that  Henry 
is  made  a  speaker,  while  his  last  decisive  battle  is 
fighting, — are  as  so  many  stamps  upon  these  plays; 
by  which  his  property  is  mark'd,  and  himself  de- 
clar'd  the  owner  of  them,  beyond  controversy  as 
we  think  :  and  though  we  have  selected  these  pas- 
sages only,  and  recommended  them  to  observation, 
it  had  been  easy  to  name  abundance  of  others 
which  bear  his  mark  as  strongly  :  and  one  circum- 
stance there  is  that  runs  through  all  the  three  plays, 
by  which  he  is  as  surely  to  be  known  as  by  any 
other  that  can  be  thought  of;  and  that  is, — the 
preservation  of  character:  all  the  personages  in 
them  are  distinctly  and  truly  delineated,  and  the 
character  given  them  sustain'd  uniformly  through- 
out; the  enormous  Richard's  particularly,  which  in 
the  third  of  these  plays  is  seen  rising  towards  it's 
zenith  :  and  who  sees  not  the  future  monster,  and 
acknowledges  at  the  same  time  the  pen  that  drew 
it,  in  these  two  lines  only,  spoken  over  a  king  who 
lies  stab'd  before  him, — 


362    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

"  What,  will  the  aspiring  blood  of  Lancaster 
*'  Sink    in  the   ground?     I  thought,    it  would  have 
mounted." 

let  him  never  pretend  discernment  hereafter  in  any 
case  of  this  nature. 

It  is  hard  to  persuade  one's  self,  that  the  ob- 
jecters  to  the  play  which  comes  next  are  indeed 
serious  in  their  opinion  ;  for  if  he  is  not  visible  in 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,  we  know  not  in  which  of  his 
comedies  he  can  be  said  to  be  so  :  the  ease  and 
sprightliness  of  the  dialogue  in  very  many  parts  of 
it ;  it's  quick  turns  of  wit,  and  the  humour  it 
abounds  in  ;  and  (chiefly)  in  those  truly  comick  cha- 
racters, the  pedant  and  his  companion,  the  page, 
the  constable,  Costard,  and  Armado, — seem  more 
than  sufficient  to  prove  Shakspeare  the  author  of 
it :  and  for  the  blemishes  of  this  play,  we  must 
seek  the  true  cause  in  it's  antiquity;  which  we  may 
venture  to  carry  higher  than  1.598,  the  date  of  it's 
first  impression :  rime,  when  this  play  appear'd, 
was  thought  a  beauty  of  the  drama,  and  heard 
with  singular  pleasure  by  an  audience  who  but  a 
few  years  before  had  been  accustom'd  to  all  rime; 
and  the  measure  we  call  dogrel,  and  are  so  much 
offended  with,  had  no  such  effect  upon  the  ears  of 
that  time  :  but  whether  blemishes  or  no,  however 
this  matter  be  which  we  have  brought  to  exculpate 
him,  neither  of  these  articles  can  with  any  face  of 
justice  be  alledg'd  against  Love's  Labour's  Lost, 
seeing  they  are  both  to  be  met  with  in  several  other 
plays,  the  genuineness  of  which  has  not  been  ques- 
tion'd  by  any  one.  And  one  thing  more  shall  be 
observ'd  in  the  behalf  of  this  play ; — that  the  au- 
thor himself  was  so  little  displeas'd  at  least  with 
some  parts  of  it,  that  he  has  brought  them  a  second 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    363 

time  upon  the  stage ;  for  who  may  not  perceive 
that  his  famous  Benedick  and  Beatrice  are  but 
little  more  than  the  counter-parts  of  Biron  and 
Rosaline?  All  which  circumstances  consider'd, 
and  that  especially  of  the  writer's  childhood  (as  it 
may  be  term'd)  when  this  comedy  was  produc'd, 
we  may  confidently  pronounce  it  his  true  offspring, 
and  replace  it  amongst  it's  brethren. 

That  the  Taming  of  the  Shrew  should  ever  have 
been  put  into  this  class  of  plays,  and  adjudg'd  a 
spurious  one,  may  justly  be  reckon 'd  wonderful, 
when  we  consider  it's  merit,  and  the  reception  it 
has  generally  met  with  in  the  world  :  it's  success 
at  first,  and  the  esteem  it  was  then  held  in,  induc'd 
Fletcher  to  enter  the  lists  with  it  in  another  play, 
in  which  Petruchio  is  humbl'd  and  Catharine 
triumphant ;  and  we  have  it  in  his  works,  under 
the  title  of  "  The  Woman's  Prize,  or,  the  Tamer 
tamd:"  but,  by  an  unhappy  mistake  of  buffoonery 
for  humour  and  obscenity  for  wit,  which  was  not 
uncommon  with  that  author,  his  production  came 
lamely  off,  and  was  soon  consign'd  to  the  oblivion 
in  which  it  is  now  bury'd ;  whereas  this  of  his 
antagonist  flourishes  still,  and  has  maintain'd  its 
place  upon  the  stage  (in  some  shape  or  other)  from 
its  very  first  appearance  down  to  the  present  hour : 
and  this  success  it  has  merited,  by  true  wit  and 
true  humour;  a  fable  of  very  artful  construction, 
much  business,  and  highly  interesting;  and  by 
natural  and  well-sustain'd  characters,  which  no 
pen  but  Shakspeare's  was  capable  of  drawing : 
what  defects  it  has,  are  chiefly  in  the  diction;  the 
same  (indeed)  with  those  of  the  play  that  was  last- 
mention'd,  and  to  be  accounted  for  tin  same  \\a\  : 
for  we  are  strongly  inclin'd  to  believe  it  a  neigh- 
bour in  time  to  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  though  wc 


S64    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

want  the  proofs  of  it  which  we  have  luckily  for 
that* 

But  the  plays  which  we  have  already  spoke  of 
are  but  slightly  attack'd,  and  by  few  writers,  in 
comparison  of  this  which  we  are  now  come  to  of 
"  Titus  Andronicus  "  commentators,  editors,  every 
one  (in  short)  who  has  had  to  do  with  Shakspeare, 
unite  all  in  condemning  it, — as  a  very  bundle  of 
horrors,  totally  unfit  for  the  stage,  and  unlike  the 
poet's  manner,  and  even  the  style  of  his  other 
pieces ;  all  which  allegations  are  extreamly  true, 
and  we  readily  admit  of  them,  but  can  not  admit 
the  conclusion — that,  therefore,  it  is  not  his ;  and 
shall  now  proceed  to  give  the  reasons  of  our  dissent, 
but  (first)  the  play's  age  must  be  enquir'd  into. 
In  the  Induction  to  Jonson's  Bartholomew  Fair, 
which  was  written  in  the  year  1614,  the  audience 
is  thus  accosted  : — "  Hee  that  will  sweare,  Jero- 
nimo,  or  Andronicus  are  the  best  playes,  yet,  shall 
passe  unexcepted  at,  heere,  as  a  man  whose  judge- 
ment shewes  it  is  constant,  and  hath  stood  still, 
these  five  and  twentie,  or  thirty  yeeres.  Though 
it  be  an  ignorance,  it  is  a  vertuous  and  stay'd  igno- 
rance ;  and  next  to  truth,  a  confirm'd  errour  does 
well ;  such  a  one  the  author  knowes  where  to  finde 
him."  We  have  here  the  great  Ben  himself,  join- 
ing this  play  with  Jeronimo,  or,  the  Spanish  Tra- 
gedy, and  bearing  express  testimony  to  the  credit 

*  The  authenticity  of  this  play  stands  further  confirm'd  by  the 
testimony  of  Sir  Aston  Cockayn ;  a  writer  who  came  near  to 
Shakspeare's  time,  and  does  expressly  ascribe  it  to  him  in  an  epi- 
gram address'd  to  Mr.  Clement  Fisher  of  Wincot ;  but  it  is  (per- 
haps,) superfluous,  and  of  but  little  weight  neither,  as  it  will  be 
said — that  Sir  Aston  proceeds  only  upon  the  evidence  of  it's  being 
in  print  in  his  name  :  we  do  therefore  lay  no  great  stress  upon  it, 
nor  shall  insert  the  epigram  ;  it  will  be  found  in  The  School  of 
Shakspeare,  which  is  the  proper  place  for  things  of  that  sort. 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.   365 

they  were  both  in  with  the  publick  at  the  time 
they  were  written  ;  but  this  is  by  the  by  ;  to  ascer- 
tain that  time,  was  the  chief  reason  for  inserting 
the  quotation,  anjd  there  we  see  it  nVd  to  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  years  prior  to  this  Induction  :  now  it 
is  not  necessary,  to  suppose  that  Jonson  speaks 
in  this  place  with  exact  precision ;  but  allowing 
that  he  does,  the  first  of  these  periods  carries  us 
back  to  1589,  a  date  not  very  repugnant  to  what 
is  afterwards  advanc'd  :  Langbaine,  in  his  Account 
of  the  English  dramatick  Poets,    under  the  arti- 
cle— Shakspeare,  does    expressly  tell    us, — that 
"  Andronicus  was  first  printed  in  1594,  quarto,  and 
acted  by  the  Earls  of  Derby,  Pembroke,  and  Essex, 
their  servants ;"  and   though  the  edition  is  not 
now  to  be  met  with,  and  he  who  mentions  it  be 
no  exact  writer,  nor  greatly  to  be  rely'd  on  in 
many  of  his  articles,  yet  in  this  which  we  have 
quoted  he  is  so  very  particular  that  one  can  hardly 
withhold  assent  to  it ;  especially,  as  this  account 
of  it's  printing  coincides  well  enough  with  Jonson's 
sera  of  writing  this  play ;  to  which  therefore  we 
subscribe,  and   go  on  upon   that  ground.     The 
books  of  that  time  afford  strange  examples  of  the 
barbarism  of  the  publick  taste  both  upon  the  stage 
and  elsewhere :  a  conceited  one  or  John  Lilly's 
set  the  whole  nation  a  madding ;  and,  for  a  while, 
every  pretender  to  politeness  "  paiTd  Euphuism," 
as  it  was  phras'd,  and  no  writings  would  go  down 
with  them  but  such  as  were  pen'd  in  that  fantastical 
manner :  the  setter-up  of  this  fashion  try'd  it  also 
in  comedy;  but  seems  to  have  miscarry d  in  that, 
and  for  this  plain  reason  :  the  people  who  govern 
theatres  are,  the  middle  and  lower  orders  of  the 
world;  and  these  expected  laughter  in  comedies, 
which  this  stuff  of  Lilly's  was  incapable  of  exci- 


366    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

ting :  but  some  other  writers,  who  rose  exactly  at 
that  time,  succeeded  better  in  certain  tragical  per- 
formances, though  as  outrageous  to  the  full  in  their 
way,  and  as  remote  from  nature,  as  these  comick 
ones  of  Lilly;  for  falling  in  with  that  innate  love 
of  blood  which  has  been  often  objected  to  British 
audiences,  and  choosing  fables  of  horror  which 
they  made  horrider  still  by  their  manner  of  handling 
them,  theyproduc'd  a  set  of  monsters  that  are  not  to 
be  parallel'd  in  all  the  annals  of  play-writing  ;  yet 
they  were  receiv'd  with  applause,  and  were  the 
favourites  of  the  publick  for  almost  ten  years  to- 
gether ending  at  1595:  many  plays  of  this  stamp, 
it  is  probable,  have  perish' d ;  but  those  that  are 
come  down  to  us,  are  as  follows  ; — "  The  Wars  of 
Cyrus ;  Tamburlaine  the  Great,  in  two  parts ;  The 
Spanish  Tragedy ',  likewise  in  two  parts;  Soliman  and 
Perseda;  and  Selimus ,  a  tragedy  /"3  which  whoever 

3  No  evidence  has  occur'd  to  prove  exactly  the  time  these 
plays  were  written,  except  that  passage  of  Jonson's  which  relates 
to  Jeronimo  ;  but  the  editions  we  have  read  them  in,  are  as  fol- 
lows: Tamburlaine  in  1593;  Selimus,  and  The  Wars  of  Cyrus,  in 
1594;  and  Soliman  and  Perseda,  in  1599;  the  other  without  a 
date,  but  as  early  as  the  earliest :  they  are  also  without  a  name 
of  author  ;  nor  has  any  book  been  met  with  to  instruct  us  in  that 
particular,  except  only  for  Jeronimo;  which  we  are  told  by 
Hey  wood,  ii.  his  Apology  for  Actors,  was  written  by  Thomas 
Kyd;  author,  or  translator  rather,  (for  it  is  taken  from  the  French 
of  Robert  Gamier, )  of  another  play,  intitl'd — Cornelia,  printed 
likewise  in  1594.  Which  of  these  extravagant  plays  had  the 
honour  to  lead  the  way,  we  can't  tell,  but  Jeronimo  seems  to 
have  the  best  pretensions  to  it ;  as  Selimus  has  above  all  his  other 
brethren,  to  bearing  away  the  palm  for  blood  and  murther  :  this 
curious  piece  has  these  lines  for  a  conclusion : — 

"  If  this  first  part  Gentles,  do  like  you  well, 

"  The  second  part,  shall  greater  murthers  tell." 

but  whether  the  audience  had  enough  of  it,  or  how  it  has  hap- 

pen'd  we  can't  tell,  but  no  such  second  part  is  to  be  found.    All 

these  plays  were  the  constant  butt  of  the  poets  who  came  imme- 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    367 

has  means  of  coming  at,  and  can  have  patience  to 
examine,  will  see  evident  tokens  of  a  fashion  then 
prevailing,  which  occasion'd  all  these  plays  to  be 
cast  in  the  same  mold.  Now,  Shakspeare,  what- 
ever  motives  he  might  have  in  some  other  parts  of 
it,  at  this  period  of  his  life  wrote  certainly  for 
profit;  and  seeing  it  was  to  be  had  in  this  way, 
(and  this  way  only,  perhaps,)  he  fell  in  with  the 
current,  and  gave  his  sorry  auditors  a  piece  to  their 
tooth  in  this  contested  play  of  Titus  Andronicus; 
which  as  it  came  out  at  the  same  time  with  the 
plays  above-mention'd,  is  most  exactly  like  them 
in  almost  every  particular;  their  very  numbers, 
consisting  all  of  ten  syllables  with  hardly  any  re- 
dundant, are  copy'd  by  this  Proteus,  who  could 
put  on  any  shape  that  either  serv'd  his  interest  or 
suited  his  inclination  :  and  this,  we  hope,  is  a  tair 
andunforc'd  way  of  accounting  for  "Andronicus;" 
and  may  convince  the  most  prejudic'd — that  Shak- 
speare might  be  the  writer  of  it ;  as  he  might  also 
of  Locrinc  which  is  ascrib'd  to  him,  a  ninth  tra- 
gedy, in  form  and  time  agreeing  perfectly  with  the 
others.  But  to  conclude  this  article, — However 
he  may  be  censur'd  as  rash  or  ill-judging,  the  edi- 
tor ventures  to  declare — that  he  himself  wanted  not 
the  conviction  of  the  foregoing  argument  to  be 
satisfy 'd  who  the  play  belongs  to;  for  though  a 
work  of  imitation,  and  conforming  itself  to  mo- 
dels truly  execrable  throughout,  vet  the  genius  of 
its  author  breaks  forth  in  some  plans,  and,  to  the 
editor's  eye,  Shakspeare  stands  confessed:  the  third 
act  in  particular  may  be  read  with  admiration  even 


diately  after  them,  and  of  Shakspeare  amongst  the  rest ;  and  In 
their  ridicule  the  town  at  last  was  made  sensible  of  their  ill  judg- 
ment, and  the  theatre  was  purg'd  of  these  monsters. 


368    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

by  the  most  delicate  ;  who,  if  they  are  not  without 
feelings,  may  chance  to  find  themselves  touch'd  by 
it  with  such  passions  as  tragedy  should  excite,  that 
is — terror,  and  pity.  The  reader  will  please  to  ob- 
serve— that  all  these  contested  plays  are  in  the  folio, 
which  is  dedicated  to  the  poet's  patrons  and  friends, 
the  earls  of  Pembroke  and  Montgomery,  by  editors 
who  are  seemingly  honest  men,  and  profess  them- 
selves dependant  upon  those  noblemen  ;  to  whom 
therefore  they  wouldhardly  have  had  the  confidence 
to  present  forgeries,  and  pieces  supposititious  ;  in 
which  too  they  were  liable  to  be  detected  by  those 
identical  noble  persons  themselves,  as  well  as  by  a 
very  great  part  of  their  other  readers  and  auditors  : 
which  argument,  though  of  no  little  strength  in  it- 
self, we  omitted  to  bring  before,  as  having  better 
(as  we  thought)  and  more  forcible  to  offer  ;  but  it 
had  behov  a  those  gentlemen  who  have  question'd 
the  plays  to  have  got  rid  of  it  in  the  first  instance, 
as  it  lies  full  in  their  way  in  the  very  entrance  upon 
this  dispute. 

We  shall  close  this  part  of  the  Introduction  with 
some  observations,  that  were  reserv'd  for  this  place, 
upon  that  paragraph  of  the  player  editors'  preface 
which  is  quoted  at  p.  330 ;  and  then  taking  this 
further  liberty  with  the  reader, — to  call  back  his 
attention  to  some  particulars  that  concern  the  pre- 
sent edition,  dismiss  him  to  be  entertain'd  (as  we 
hope)  by  a  sort  of  appendix,  consisting  of  those 
notes  that  have  been  mention 'd,  in  which  the  true 
and  undoubted  originals  of  almost  all  the  poet's 
fables  are  clearly  pointed  out.  But  first  of  the 
preface.  Besides  the  authenticity  of  all  the  several 
pieces  that  make  up  this  collection,  and  their  care 
in  publishing  them,  both  solemnly  affirm 'd  in  the 
paragraph  refer*  d  to,  we  there  find  these  honest 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    3(59 

editors  acknowledging  in  terms  equally  solemn  the 
author's  right  in  his  copies,  and  lamenting  that  he 
had  not  exercis'd  that  aright  by  a  publication  of 
them  during  his  life-time ;  and  from  the  manner 
in  which  they  express  themselves,  we  are  strongly 
inclin'd  to  think — that  he  had  really  form'd  such  a 
design,  but  towards  his  last  days,  and  too  late  to 
put  it  in  execution  :  a  collection  of  Jonson's  was  at 
that  instant  in  the  press,  and  upon  the  point  of 
coming  forth  ;  which  might  probably  inspire  such 
a  thought  into  him  and  his  companions,  and  pro- 
duce conferences  between  them — about  a  similar 
publication  from  him,  and  the  pieces  that  should 
compose  it,  which  the  poet  might  make  a  list  of. 
It  is  true,  this  is  only  a  supposition  ;  but  a  suppo- 
sition arising  naturally,  as  we  think,  from  the  in- 
cident that  has  been  mention'd,  and  the  expressions 
of  his  fellow  players  and  editors  :  and,  if  suffer'd 
to  pass  for  truth,  here  is  a  good  and  sound  reason 
for  the  exclusion  of  all  those  other  plays  that  have 
been  attributed  to  him  upon  some  grounds  or 
other ; — he  himself  has  proscrib'd  them  ;  and  we 
cannot  forbear  hoping,  that  they  will  in  no  fu- 
ture time  rise  up  against  him,  and  be  thrust  into  his 
works  ;  a  disavowal  of  weak  and  idle  pieces,  the 
productions  of  green  years,  wantonness,  or  inat- 
tention, is  a  right  that  all  authors  are  vested  with  ; 
and  should  be  exerted  by  all,  if  their  reputation  is 
dear  to  them ;  had  Jonson  us'd  it,  his  character 
had  stood  higher  than  it  does.  But,  after  all,  they 
who  have  pay'd  attention  to  this  truth  are  not  al- 
ways secure  ;  the  indiscreet  zeal  of  an  admirer,  or 
avarice  of  a  publisher,  has  frequently  added  tiling 
that  dishonour  them;  and  where  realities  have  been 
wanting,  forgeries  supply  the  place;  thus  has 
Homer  his  Hymns,  and  the  poor  Mantuan  his  Chris 
vol.  i.  is  n 


370  MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION, 

and  his  Culex.  Noble  and  great  authors  demand 
all  our  veneration :  where  their  wills  can  be  dis- 
cover'd,  they  ought  sacredly  to  be  comply'd  with ; 
and  that  editor  ill  discharges  his  duty,  who  pre- 
sumes to  load  them  with  things  they  have  renounc'd: 
it  happens  but  too  often,  that  we  have  other  ways 
to  shew  our  regard  to  them ;  their  own  great  want 
of  care  in  their  copies,  and  the  still  greater  want  of 
it  that  is  commonly  in  their  impressions,  will  find 
sufficient  exercise  for  any  one's  friendship,  who 
may  wish  to  see  their  works  set  forth  in  that  per- 
fection which  was  intended  by  the  author.  And 
this  friendship  we  have  endeavour' d  to  shew  to 
Shakspeare  in  the  present  edition :  the  plan  of  it 
has  been  lay'd  before  the  reader;  upon  whom  it 
rests  to  judge  finally  of  its  goodness,  as  well  as  how 
it  is  executed  :  but  as  several  matters  have  inter- 
ven'd  that  may  have  driven  it  from  his  memory  j 
and  we  are  desirous  above  all  things  to  leave  a 
strong  impression  upon  him  of  one  merit  which  it 
may  certainly  pretend  to,  that  is — it's  fidelity ; 
we  shall  take  leave  to  remind  him,  at  parting, 
that — Throughout  all  this  work,  what  is  added 
without  the  authority  of  some  ancient  edition,  is 
printed  in  a  black  letter :  what  alter' d,  and  what 
thrown  out,  constantly  taken  notice  of;  some  few 
times  in  a  note,  where  the  matter  was  long,  or  of 
a  complex  nature;4  but,  more  generally,  at  the 


*  The  particulars  that  could  not  well  be  pointed  out  below, 
according  to  the  general  method,  or  otherwise  than  by  a  note, 
are  of  three  sorts ; — omissions,  any  thing  large ;  transpositions  ; 
and  such  differences  of  punctuation  as  produce  great  changes  in 
the  sense  of  a  passage :  instances  of  the  first  occur  in  Love's  La- 
bour's Lost,  p.  54,  and  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  p.  109  and  117  ; 
of  the  second,  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors,  p.  62,  and  in  Rich- 
ard III.  p.  92,  and  102 ;  and   The  Tempest,  p.  69,  and  King 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    371 

bottom  of  the  page  ;  where  what  is  put  out  of  the 
text,  how  minute  and  insignificant  soever,  is  always 
to  be  met  with;  what  alter'd,  as  constantly  set 
down,  and  in  the  proper  words  of  that  edition  upon 
which  the  alteration  is  form'd  :  and,  even  in  au- 
thoriz'd  readings,  whoever  is  desirous  of  knowing 
further,  what  edition  is  follow'd  preferably  to  the 
others,  may  be  gratify'd  too  in  that,  by  consulting 
the  Various  Readings;  which  are  now  finish 'd; 
and  will  be  publish'd,  together  with  the  Notes, 
in  some  other  volumes,  with  all  the  speed  that  is 
convenient. 


Origin  of  Shakspeare's  Fables. 


All's  well  that  ends  well. 

The  fable  of  this  play  is  taken  from  a  novel,  of 
which  Boccace  is  the  original  author ;  in  whose 
Decameron  it  may  be  seen  at  p.  97.b  of  the  Giunti 
edition,  reprinted  at  London.  But  it  is  more  than 
probable,  that  Shakspeare  read  it  in  a  book,  call'd 
The  Palace  of  Pleasure:  which  is  a  collection  of 
novels  translated  from  other  authors,  made  by  one 
William  Painter,  and  by  him  first  publish'd  in  the 
years  1565  and  67,  in  two  tomes,  quarto;  the  novel 
now  spoken  of,  is  the  thirty-eighth  of  tome  the  first. 
This  novel  is  a  meagre  translation,  not  (perhaps) 

Lear,  p.  53,  afford  instances  of  the  last ;  as  may  be  seen  by 
looking  into  any  modem  edition,  where  all  those  passages  stand 
nearly  as  in  the  old  ones. 

[All  these  references  are  to  Mr.  Capell's  own  edition  of  our 
author.] 

DD2 


372  MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

immediately  from  Boccace,  but  from  a  French 
translator  of  him:  as  the  original  is  in  every  body's 
hands,  it  may  there  be  seen — that  nothing  is  taken 
from  it  by  Shakspeare,  but  some  leading  incidents 
of  the  serious  part  of  his  play. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra, 

This  play,  together  with  Coriolanus,  Julius  Cw- 
sar,  and  some  part  of  Timon  of  Athens,  are  form'd 
upon  Plutarch's  Lives,  in  the  articles — Coriolanus, 
Brutus,  Julius  Ccesar,  and  Antony:  of  which  lives 
there  is  a  French  translation,  of  great  fame,  made 
by  Amiot,  Bishop  of  Auxerre  and  great  almoner  of 
France  ;  which,  some  few  years  after  it's  first  ap- 
pearance, was  put  into  an  English  dress  by  our 
countryman  Sir  Thomas  North,  and  publisn'd  in 
the  year  1579,  in  folio.  As  the  language  of  this 
translation  is  pretty  good,  for  the  time ;  and  the 
sentiments,  which  are  Plutarch's,  breathe  the  ge- 
nuine spirit  of  the  several  historical  personages ; 
Shakspeare  has,  with  much  judgment,  introduc'd 
no  small  number  of  speeches  into  these  plays,  in 
the  very  words  of  that  translator,  turning  them 
into  verse :  which  he  has  so  well  wrought  up,  and 
incorporated  with  his  plays,  that,  what  he  has  in- 
troduc'd, cannot  be  discover'd  by  any  reader,  'till 
it  is  pointed  out  for  him. 

As  you  like  it, 

A  novel,  or  (rather)  pastoral  romance,  intitl'd — 
Euphues's  Golden  Legacy,  written  in  a  very  fantas- 
tical style  by  Dr.  Thomas  Lodge,  and  by  nim  first 
publish'd  in  the  year  1590,  in  quarto,  is  the  foun- 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    373 

dation  of  As  you  like  it :  besides  the  fable,  which  is 
pretty  exactly  followed,  the  outlines  of  certain  prin- 
cipal characters  may  be  observ'd  in  the  novel :  and 
some  expressions  of  the  novelist  (few,  indeed,  and 
of  no  great  moment,)  seem  to  have  taken  posses- 
sion of  Shakspeare's  memory,  and  from  thence 
crept  into  his  play. 

Comedy  of  Errors. 

Of  this  play,  the  Mencechmi  of  Plautus  is  most 
certainly  the  original :  yet  the  poet  went  not  to 
the  Latin  for  it;  but  took  up  with  an  English 
MencecJimij  put  out  by  one  W.  W.  in  1595,  quarto. 
This  translation, — in  which  the  writer  professes  to 
have  us'd  some  liberties, which  he  has  distinguish'd 
by  a  particular  mark, — is  in  prose,  and  a  very  good 
one  for  the  time :  it  furnish'd  Shakspeare  with 
nothing  but  his  principal  incident ;  as  you  may  in 
part  see  by  the  translator's  argument,  which  is  in 
verse,  and  runs  thus : 

"  Two  twinborne  sonnes,  a  Sicill  marchant  had, 

"  Menechmus  one,  and  Sosicles  the  other ; 

"  The  first  his  father  lost  a  little  lad, 

"  The  grandsire  namde  the  latter  like  his  brother : 

u  This  (growne  a  man)  long  travell  tooke  to  seeke, 

**  His  brother,  and  to  Epidamnum  came, 

u  Where  th*  other  dwelt  inricht,  and  him  so  like, 

*«  That  citizens  there  take  him  for  the  same ; 

"  Father,  wife,  neighbours,  each  mistaking  either, 

"  Much  pleasant  error,  ere  they  mcete  togithcr." 

It  is  probable,  that  the  last  of  these  verses  suggested 
the  title  of  Shakspeare's  play. 


374    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 


Cymbeline. 

Boccace's  story  of  Bernardo  da  Ambrogivolo, 
(Day  2,  Nov.  9,)  is  generally  suppos'd  to  have  fur- 
nish'd  Shakspeare  with  the  fable  of  Cymbeline: 
but  the  embracers  of  this  opinion  seem  not  to 
have  been  aware,  that  many  of  that  author's 
novels  (translated,  or  imitated,)  are  to  be  found  in 
English  books,  prior  to,  or  contemporary  with, 
Shakspeare :  and  of  this  novel  in  particular,  there 
is  an  imitation  extant  in  a  story-book  of  that  time, 
intitl'd — Westwardjbr  Smelts :  it  is  the  second  tale 
in  the  book :  the  scene,  and  the  actors  of  it  are 
different  from  Boccace,  as  Shakspeare's  are  from 
both;  but  the  main  of  the  story  is  the  same  in  all. 
We  may  venture  to  pronounce  it  a  book  of  those 
times,  and  that  early  enough  to  have  been  us'd 
by  Shakspeare,  as  I  am  persuaded  it  was ;  though 
the  copy  that  I  have  of  it,  is  no  older  than  1620; 
it  is  a  quarto  pamphlet  of  only  five  sheets  and  a 
half,  printed  in  a  black  letter :  some  reasons  for 
my  opinion  are  given  in  another  place;  (v.  Winter's 
Tale)  though  perhaps  they  are  not  necessary,  as  it 
may  one  day  better  be  made  appear  a  true  one,  by 
the  discovery  of  some  more  ancient  edition. 


Hamlet. 

About  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
Francis  de  Belleforest,  a  French  gentleman,  enter- 
tain'd  his  countrymen  with  a  collection  of  novels, 
which  he  intitles— Histoires  Tragiques;  they  are  in 
part  originals,  part  translations,  and  chiefly  from 
Bandello :  he  began  to  publish  them  in  the  year 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.   375 

1564;  and  continu'd  his  publication  successively  in 
several  tomes,  how  many  I  know  not ;  the  dedica- 
tion to  his  fifth  tome  is  dated  six  years  after.  In 
that  tome,  the  troisieme  Histoire  has  this  title  j 
"  Avec  quelle  ruse  Amleth,  qui  depuis  Jut  roy  de 
Dannemarch,  vengea  la  mort  de  son  pere  Horvuen- 
dille,  occis  par  Fengon  son  frere,  $  autre  occur- 
rence de  son  histoire"  Painter,  who  has  been  men- 
tion* d  before,  compil'd  his  Palace  of  Pleasure  al- 
most entirely  from  Belleforest,  taking  here  and 
there  a  novel  as  pleas' d  him,  but  he  did  not  trans- 
late the  whole  :  other  novels,  it  is  probable,  were 
translated  by  different  people,  and  publish'd  singly; 
this,  at  least,  that  we  are  speaking  of,  was  so,  and  is 
intitl'd — The  Historie  of  Hamblet ;  it  is  in  quarto, 
and  black  letter  :  there  can  be  no  doubt  made,  by 
persons  who  are  acquainted  with  these  things,  that 
the  translation  is  not .  much  younger  than  the 
French  original;  though  the  only  edition  of  it,  that 
is  yet  come  to  my  knowledge,  is  no  earlier  than 
1608 :  that  Shakspeare took  his  play  from.it,  there 
can  likewise  be  very  little  doubt. 

1  Henry  IV. 

In  the  eleven  plays  that  follow, — Macbeth^  King 
John,  Richard  II.  Henry  IV.  two  parts,  Henry  V. 
Henry  VI.  three  parts,  Richard  III.  and  Jlctiry 
VIII.— the  historians  of  that  time,  Hall,  Holin- 
shed,  Stow,  and  others,  (and,  in  particular,  Ho- 
linshed,)  are  pretty  closely  follow'd  ;  and  that  not 
only  for  their  matter,  but  even  sometimes  in  their 
expressions :  the  harangue  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  in  Henry  V.  that  of  Queen  Catharine 
in  Henry  VIII.  at  her  trial,  and  the  king's  reply 
to  it,  are  taken  from  those  chroniclers,  and  put  into 


376    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

verse:  other  lesser  matters  are  borrow'd  from  them; 
and  so  largely  scatter'd  up  and  down  in  these  plays, 
that  whoever  would  rightly  judge  of  the  poet,  must 
acquaint  himself  with  those  authors,  and  his  cha- 
racter will  not  suffer  in  the  enquiry. 

Richard  III.  was  preceded  by  other  plays  written 
upon  the  same  subject ;  concerning  which,  see  the 
conclusion  of  a  note  in  this  Introduction,  at  p.  332. 
And  as  to  Henry  V. —  it  may  not  be  improper  to 
observe  in  this  place,  that  there  is  extant  another 
old  play,  call'd  The  famous  Victories  of  Henry  the 
Fifth,  printed  in  1617,  quarto;  perhaps  by  some 
tricking  bookseller,  who  meant  to  impose  it  upon 
the  world  for  Shakspeare's,  who  dy'd  the  year  be- 
fore. This  play,  which  opens  with  that  prince's 
wildness  and  robberies  before  he  came  to  the  crown, 
and  so  comprehends  something  of  the  story  of  both 
parts  of  Henry  IV.  as  well  as  of  Henry  V. — is  a 
very  medley  of  nonsense  and  ribaldry ;  and,  it  is 
my  firm  belief,  was  prior  to  Shakspeare's  Henries; 
and  the  identical  "  displeasing  play"  mention'd  in 
the  epilogue  to  2  Henry  IV. ;  for  that  such  a  play 
should  be  written  after  his,  or  receiv'd  upon  any 
stage,  has  no  face  of  probability.  There  is  a  cha- 
racter in  it,  call'd — Sir  John  Oldcastle;  who  holds 
there  the  place  of  Sir  John  FalstafF,  but  his  very 
antipodes  in  every  other  particular,  for  it  is  all 
dullness:  and  it  is  to  this  character  that  Shakspeare 
alludes,  in  those  much-disputed  passages ;  one  in 
his  Henry  IV.  p.  194,  and  the  other  in  the  epi- 
logue to  his  second  part ;  where  the  words  "  for 
Oldcastle  dy'd  a  martyr"  hint  at  this  miserable  per- 
formance, and  it's  fate,  which  was — damnation. 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    377 


King  Lear. 

Lear's  distressful  story  has  been  often  told  in 
poems,  ballads,  and  chronicles:  but  to  none  of 
these  are  we  indebted  for  Shakspeare's  Lear;  but 
to  a"silly  old  play  which  first  made  its  appearance 
in  1605,  the  title  of  which  is  as  follows: — "  The  I 
True  Chronicle  Hi-  |  story  of  King  Leir,  and  his 
three  |  daughters,  Gonorill,  Ragan,  \  and  Cordelia. 
As  it  hath  bene  divers  and  sundry  |  times  lately 
acted.  I  London,  |  Printed  by  Simon  Stafford  for 
John  I  Wright,  and  are  to  bee  sold  at  his  shop  at 
I  Christes  Church  dore,  next  Newgate-  |  Market. 
1G05.  (4°  I.  4b.)-— As  it  is  a  great  curiosity,  and 
very  scarce,  the  title  is  here  inserted  at  large:  and 
for  the  same  reason,  and  also  to  shew  the  use  that 
Shakspeare  made  of  it,  some  extracts  will  now  be 
added. 

The  author  of  this  Leir  has  kept  him  close  to 
the  chronicles ;  for  he  ends  his  play  with  the  re- 
instating King  Leir  in  his  throne,  by  the  aid  of 
Cordelia  and  her  husband.  But  take  the  entire 
fable  in  his  own  words.  Towards  the  end  of  the 
play,  at  signature  H  3,  you  find  Leir  in  France : 
upon  whose  coast  he  and  his  friend  Perillus  are 
landed  in  so  necessitous  a  condition,  that,  having 
nothing  to  pay  their  passage,  the  mariners  take  their 
cloaks,  leaving  them  their  jerkins  in  exchange : 
thus  attir'd,  they  go  up  further  into  the  country; 
and  there,  when  they  are  at  the  point  to  perish  by 
famine,  insomuch  that  Perillus  offers  Leir  his  arm 
to  feed  upon,  they  light  upon  Gallia  and  his  queen, 
whom  the  author  has  brought  down  thitherward, 
in  progress,  disguis'd.  Their  discourse  is  overheard 
by  Cordelia,  who  immediately  knows  them  ;  but, 


378    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

at  her  husband's  persuasion,  forbears  to  discover 
herself  a  while,  relieves  them  with  food,  and  then 
asks  their  story  j  which  Leir  gives  her  in  these 
words : 


"  Leir.  Then  know  this  first,  I  am  a  Brittayne  borne, 
"  And  had  three  daughters  by  one  loving  wife  : 
"  And  though  I  say  it,  of  beauty  they  were  sped ; 
"  Especially  the  youngest  of  the  three, 
"  For  her  perfections  hardly  inatcht  could  be  : 
"  On  these  I  doted  with  a  jelous  love, 
"  And  thought  to  try  which  of  them  lov'd  me  best, 
*'  By  asking  of  them,  which  would  do  most  for  me? 
"  The  first  and  second  flattred  me  with  words, 
"  And  vowd  they  lov'd  me  better  then  their  lives  : 
"  The  youngest  sayd,  she  loved  me  as  a  child 
"  Might  do  :  her  answere  I  esteem'd  most  vild, 
"  And  presently  in  an  outragious  mood, 
"  I  turnd  her  from  me  to  go  sinke  or  swym  ; 
"  And  all  I  had,  even  to  the  very  clothes, 
"  I  gave  in  dowry  with  the  other  two  : 
"  And  she  that  best  deservM  the  greatest  share, 
"  I  gave  her  nothing,  but  disgrace  and  care. 
"  Now  mark  the  sequell :  When  I  had  done  thus, 
"  I  soiournd  in  my  eldest  daughters  house, 
"  Where  for  a  time  I  was  intreated  well, 
"  And  liv'd  in  state  sufficing  my  content : 
"  But  every  day  her  kindnesse  did  grow  cold, 
'*  Which  I  with  patience  put  up  well  ynough 
"  And  seemed  not  to  see  the  things  I  saw : 
"  But  at  the  last  she  grew  so  far  incenst 
"  With  moody  fury,  and  with  causelesse  hate, 
**  That  in  most  vild  and  contumelious  termes, 
"  She  bade  me  pack,  and  harbour  some  where  else 
*c  Then  was  I  fayne  for  refuge  to  repayre 
"  Unto  my  other  daughter  for  reliefe, 
"  Who  gave  me  pleasing  and  most  courteous  words ; 
*'  But  in  her  actions  shewed  her  selfe  so  sore, 
"  As  never  any  daughter  did  before : 
"  She  prayd  me  in  a  morning  out  betime, 
"  To  go  to  a  thicket  two  miles  from  the  court, 
"  Poynting  that  there  she  would  come  talke  with  me: 
"  There  she  had  set  a  shagbayrd  murdring  wretch, 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    379 

"  To  massacre  my  honest  friend  and  me. 

"  And  now  I  am  constrain  d  to  seeke  reliefe 
"  Of  her  to  whom  I  have  bin  so  unkind ; 
"  Whose  censure,  if  it  do  award  me  death, 
*'  I  must  confesse  she  paves  me  but  my  due : 
"  But  if  she  shew  a  loving  daughters  part, 
•*  It  comes  of  God  and  her,  not  my  desert. 

"  Cor.  No  doubt  she  will,  I  dare  be  sworne  she  will." 

Thereupon  ensues  her  discovery ;  and,  with  it, 
/  a  circumstance  of  some  beauty,  which  Shakspeare 
has  borrow'd — (v.  Lear,  p.  56.5,)  their  kneeling 
to  each  other,  and  mutually  contending  which 
should  ask  forgiveness.  The  next  page  presents  us 
Gallia,  and  Mumford  who  commands  under  him, 
marching  to  embarque  their  forces,  to  re-instate 
Leir ;  and  the  next,  a  sea-port  in  Britain,  and  of- 
ficers setting  a  watch,  who  are  to  fire  a  beacon  to 
give  notice  if  any  ships  approach,  in  which  there  is 
some  low  humour  that  is  passable  enough.  Gallia 
and  his  forces  arrive,  and  take  the  town  by  sur- 
prize :  immediately  upon  which,  they  are  encoun- 
ter'd  by  the  forces  of  the  two  elder  sisters,  and 
their  husbands :  a  battle  ensues :  Leir  conquers ; 
he  and  his  friends  enter  victorious,  and  the  play 
closes  thus : — 

"  Thanks  (worthy  Mumford)  to  thee  last  of  all, 

**  Not  greeted  last,  'cause  thy  desert  was  small ; 

"  No,  thou  hast  lion-like  lay'd  on  to-day, 

'*  Chasing  the  Cornwall  King  and  Cambria; 

'*  Who  with  my  daughters,  daughters  did  I  say  ? 

'*  To  save  their  lives,  the  fugitives  did  play. 

"  Come,  sonne  and  daughter,  who  did  me  advance, 

n  Repose  with  me  awhile,  and  then  for  Frounce.* ' 

[Exeunt. 

Such  is  the  Leir,  now  before  us.    Who  the  au- 
thor of  it  should  be,  I  cannot  surmise;  for  neither 


380    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

in  manner  nor  style  has  it  the  least  resemblance 
to  any  of  the  other  tragedies  of  that  time :  most 
of  them  rise  now  and  then,  and  are  poetical;  but 
this  creeps  in  one  dull  tenour,  from  beginning  to 
end,  after  the  specimen  here  inserted :  it  should 
seem  he  was  a  Latinist,  by  the  translation  follow- 
ing: 

"  Feare  not,  my  lord,  the  perfit  good  indeed, 

"  Can  never  be  corrupted  by  the  bad  : 

"  A  new  fresh  vessell  still  retaynes  the  taste 

•'  Of  that  which  first  is  powr'd  into  the  same:"  [sign.  H. 

But  whoever  he  was,  Shakspeare  has  done  him  the 
honour  to  follow  him  in  a  stroke  or  two :  one  has 
been  observ'd  upon  above ;  and  the  reader,  who  is 
acquainted  with  Shakspeare'sXe«r,will  perceive  an- 
other in  the  second  line  of  the  concluding  speech : 
and  here  is  a  third;  "  Knowest  thou  these  letters  ?" 
says  Leir  to  Ragan,  (sign.  I.  3b.)  shewing  her  hers 
and  her  sister's  letters  commanding  his  death; 
upon  which,  she  snatches  at  the  letters,  and  tears 
them:  (v.  Lear,  p.  590,  591,)  another,  and  that 
a  most  signal  one  upon  one  account,  occurs  at  sig- 
nature C  3b : 

"  But  he,  the  myrrour  of  mild  patience, 

**.  Puts  up  all  wrongs,  and  never  gives  reply :" 

Perillus  says  this  of  Leir ;  comprizing  therein  his 
character,  as  drawn  by  this  author :  how  opposite 
to  that  which  Shakspeare  has  given  him,  all  know; 
and  yet  he  has  found  means  to  put  nearly  the  same 
words  into  the  very  mouth  of  his  Lear, — 

"  No,  I  will  be  the  pattern  of  all  patience, 
"  I  will  say  nothing." 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    381 

Lastly,  two  of  Shakspeare's  personages,  Kent,  and 
the  Steward,  seem  to  owe  their  existence  to  the 
above-mention'd  "  shag-hair'd  wretch,"  and  the 
Perillus  of  this  Leir. 

The  episode  of  Gloster  and  his  two  sons  is  taken 
from  the  Arcadia :  in  which  romance  there  is  a 
chapter  thus  intitl'd; — "  The  piti full  state,  and  storie 
of  the  Paphlagonian  unkinde  King,  and  his  kind 
Sonne,  first  related  by  the  son,  then  by  the  blind  fa- 
ther" {Arcadia,  p.  142,  edit.  1590,  4to.)  of  which 
episode  there  are  no  traces  in  either  chronicle, 
poem,  or  play,  wherein  this  history  is  handl'd. 

Love's  Labour  s  Lost. 

The  fable  of  this  play  does  not  seem  to  be  a 
work  entirely  of  invention;  and  I  am  apt  to  believe, 
that  it  owes  its  birth  to  some  novel  or  other,  which 
may  one  day  be  discover'd.  The  character  of  Ar- 
mado  has  some  resemblance  to  Don  Quixote ;  but 
the  play  is  older  than  that  work  of  Cervantes :  of 
Holofernes,  another  singular  character,  there  are 
some  faint  traces  in  a  masque  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney's 
that  was  presented  before  Queen  Elizabeth  at 
Wansted:  this  masque,  call'd  in  catalogues — The 
Lady  of  May,  is  at  the  end  of  that  author's  works, 
edit.  1627.  folio. 


Measure  for  Measure. 

In  the  year  1578,  was  publish'd  in  a  black-Jetter 
quarto  a  miserable  dramatick  performance,  in  two 
parts,  intitl'd — /*?  nrnos  and  Cassandra;  written  by 
one  George  Whetstone,  author  likewise  of  the 
Heptameron,  and  much  other  poetry  of  the  same 


382    MR*  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

stamp,  printed  about  that  time.  These  plays  their 
author,  perhaps,  might  form  upon  a  novel  of 
Cinthio's ;  (v.  Dec.  8,  Nov.  5,)  which  Shakspeare 
went  not  to,  but  took  up  with  Whetstone's  fable, 
as  is  evident  from  the  argument  of  it;  which, 
though  it  be  somewhat  of  the  longest,  yet  take  it 
in  his  own  words. 


"  The  Argument  of  the  whole 
Historye. 

"  In  the  Cyttie  of  Julio  (sometimes  under  the 
dominion  of  Corvinus  Kinge  of  Hungarie  and 
Boemia)  there  was  a  law,  that  what  man  so  ever 
committed  adultery,  should  lose  his  head,  &  the 
woman  offender,  should  weare  some  disguised  ap- 
parel, during  her  life,  to  make  her  infamouslye 
noted.  This  severe  lawe,  by  the  favour  of  some 
mercifull  magistrate,  became  little  regarded,  untill 
the  time  of  Lord  Promos  auctority :  who  convict- 
ing, a  yong  gentleman  named  Andrugio  of  incon- 
tinency,  condemned,  both  him,  and  his  minion  to 
the  execution  of  this  statute.  Andrugio  had  a 
very  vertuous,  and  beawtiful  gentlewoman  to  his 
sister,  named  Cassandra :  Cassandra  to  enlarge  her 
brothers  life,  submitted  an  humble  petition  to  the 
Lord  Promos :  Promos  regarding  her  good  behavi- 
ours, and  fantasying  her  great  beawtie,  was  much 
delighted  with  the  sweete  order  of  her  talke :  and 
doyng  good,  that  evill  might  come  thereof:  for  a 
time,  he  repryv'd  her  brother  :  but  wicked  man, 
tourning  his  liking  unto  unlawfull  lust,  he  set 
downe  the  spoile  of  her  honour,  raunsome  for  her 
Brothers  life :  Chaste  Cassandra,  abhorring  both 
him  and  his  sute,  by  no  perswasion  would  yeald  to 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    383 

this  raunsome.     But  in  fine,  wonne  with  the  im- 
portunitye  of  hir  brother  (pleading  for  life :)  upon 
these  conditions  she  agreed  to  Promos.     First  that 
he  should  pardon  her  brother,  and  after  marry  her. 
Promos  as  fearles  in  promisse,  as  carelesse  in  per- 
formance, with  sollemne  vowe,  sygned  her  con- 
ditions :    but   worse  than    any  Infydel,  his   will 
satisfyed,  he  performed  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other :  for  to  keepe  his  aucthoritye,  unspotted  with 
favour,  and  to  prevent  Cassandraes  clamors,  he 
commaunded  the  Gayler  secretly,  to  present  Cas- 
sandra with  her  brother's  head.    The  Gayler,  with 
the  outcryes    of  Andrugio,   (abhorryng  Promos 
lewdnes,)  by  the  providence  of  God,  provided  thus 
for  his  safety.     He  presented  Cassandra  with  a 
felons  head  newlie  executed, who,  (being  mangled, 
knew  it  not  from  her  brothers,  by  the  Gayler,  who 
was  set  at  libertie)wasso  agreeved  atthistrecherye, 
that  at  the  pointe  to  kyl  her  selfe,  she  spared  that 
stroke,  to  be  avenged  of  Promos.     And  devysing 
a  way,  she  concluded,  to  make  her  fortunes  knowne 
unto  the  kinge.     She  (executing  this  resolution) 
was  so  highly  favoured  of  the  King,  that  forthwith 
he  hasted  to  do  justice  on  Promos:  whose  judge- 
ment was,  to  marrye  Cassandra,  to  repaire  her 
erased  Honour  :  which  donne,  for  his  hainoua  of- 
fence he  should  lose  his  head.     This  maryage  so- 
lempnised,  Cassandra  tyed  in  the  greatest  bondes 
of  affection  to  her  husband,  became  an  earnest  suter 
for  his  life:  the  Kinge  (tendringe  the  general] 
benefit  of  the  comon  weale,  before  her  special  case, 
although  he  favoured  her  much)  would  not  graunt 
her  sute.     Andrugio  (disguised  amonge  the  com- 

f>any)  sorrowing  the  griefe  of  his  sister,  bewrayde 
lis  safety,  and  craved  pardon.  The  Kinge,  to 
renowne  the  vertues  of  Cassandra,  pardoned  both 


S84  MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

him,  and  Promos.    The  circumstances  of  this  rare 
Historye,  in  action  livelye  foloweth." 
The  play  itself  opens  thus: — 

"  Actus  7.     Scena  1. 

«'  Promos,  Mayor,  Shirife,  Sworde  bearer:  One  with  a  bunche 
of  keyes  :  Phallax,  Promos  man. 

"  Jfou  SDfficew  to£ic!>  note  in  Julio  Cage, 

"  IKnotoe  pou  our  leaBge,  tty  filinge  of  Hungarie : 

"  Sent  tne  Promos,  to  iopne  toit£  pou  in  ftoap : 

"  ^T&at  ftill  toe  map  to  Justice  £at>e  an  epe. 

"  anti  note  to  fiioto,  tnp  rule  $  potoer  at  lartoge, 

"  attenttoelie,  pie  Hettew  ©attent*  fjeare : 

"  Phallax  realie  out  mp  ftoberaines  cfjartige, 

**  Phal.  80  pou  command,  31  topH :  gibe  IjeeBfuI  eare. 

"  Phallax  readeth  the  Kinges  Letters  Patents,  which 
must  be  Jayre  written  in  parchment,  with  some 
great  counterfeat  zeale. 

"  Pro.  loe,  |>ere  pou  fee  tof>at  i0  our  ftoberaigne0  topi, 
"  Hoe,  lime  i)ie  tout),  that  rig&t,  not  migijt,  ieare  ftoape : 
"  Hoe,  fccare  pie  care,  to  toeeti  from  gooti  tbc  pH, 
"  3fo  fcourge  tbe  toigbt0,  goofc  HatoC0  tbat  bifobap." 

And  thus  it  proceeds  j  without  one  word  in  it, 
that  Shakspeare  could  make  use  of,  or  can  be  read 
with  patience  by  any  man  living:  and  yet,  besides 
the  characters  appearing  in  the  argument,  his  Bawd 
Clown,  Lucio,  Juliet,  and  the  Provost,  nay,  and 
even  his  Barnardine,  are  created  out  of  hints  which 
this  play  gave  him ;  and  the  lines  too  that  are 
quoted,  bad  as  they  are,  suggested  to  him  the  man- 
ner in  which  his  own  play  opens. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

The  Jew  of  Venice  was  a  story  exceedingly  well 
known  in  Shakspeare'stime;  celebrated  in  ballads; 
and  taken  (perhaps)  originally  from  an  Italian  book 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    385 

intitl'd— It  Pecorone:  the  author  of  which  calls 
himself, — Ser  Giovanni  Fiorentino ;  and  writ  his 
book,  as  he  tells  you  in  some  humorous  verses  at 
the  beginning  of  it,  in  1378,  three  years  after  the 
death  of  Boccace ;  it  is  divided  into  giornata's,  and 
the  story  we  are  speaking  of  is  in  the  first  novel  of 
the  giornata  quarta ;  edit.  1 .565,  octavo,  in  Vinegia. 
This  novel  Shakspeare  certainly  read ;  either  in  the 
original,  or  (which  I  rather  think)  in  some  transla- 
tion that  is  not  now  to  be  met  with,  and  form'd  his 
play  upon  it.  It  was  translated  anew,  and  made 
publick  in  1755,  in  a  small  octavo  pamphlet, 
printed  for  M.  Cooper :  and,  at  the  end  ot  it,  a 
novel  of  Boccace ;  (the  first  of  day  the  tenth) 
which,  as  the  translator  rightly  judges,  might  pos- 
sibly produce  the  scene  of  the  caskets,  substituted 
by  the  poet  in  place  of  one  in  the  other  novel,  that 
was  not  proper  for  the  stage. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

"  Queen  Elizabeth," says  a  writer  of  Shakspeare's 
life,  "  was  so  well  pleas'd  with  that  admirable  cha- 
racter of  FalstafF,  in  the  two  parts  of  Henri/  the 
Fourth,  that  she  commanded  him  to  continue  it  for 
one  play  more,  and  to  shew  him  in  love.  This  is 
said  to  be  the  occasion  of  his  writing  The  Mcrri/ 
Wives  of  Windsor.1'  As  there  is  no  proof  brought 
for  the  truth  of  this  story,  we  may  conclude — that 
it  is  either  some  playhouse  tradition,  or  had  its  rise 
from  Sir  William  D'Avenant,  whose  authority  the 
writer  quotes  for  another  singular  anecdote, relating 
to  lord  Southampton.  Be  this  as  it  may ;  Shak- 
speare, in  the  conduct  of  FalstafTs  love-ad ventun », 
made  use  of  some  incidents  in  a  book  that  has  been 
mention'd  before,  call'd — II  Pecorone;  they  are  in 

vol.  i.  c  c 


386    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION, 

the  second  novel  of  that  book.  It  is  highly  pro- 
bable, that  this  novel  likewise  is  in  an  old  English 
dress  somewhere  or  other;  and  from  thence  trans- 
planted into  a  foolish  book,  call'd — The  fortunate, 
the  deceived,  and  the  unfortunate  Lovers;  printed  in 
1685,  octavo,  for  William  Whittwood;  where  the 
reader  may  see  it,  at  p.  1.  Let  me  add  too,  that 
there  is  a  like  story  in  the — "  Piacevoli  Notti,  di 
Straparola,  libro  primo ;  at  Notte  quarta,  Favola 
quarta;  edit.  1567,  octavo,  in  Vinegia. 

Midsummer-Night 's  Dream, 

The  history  of  our  old  poets  is  so  little  known, 
and  the  first  editions  of  their  works  become  so 
very  scarce,  that  it  is  hard  pronouncing  any  thing 
certain  about  them  :  but,  it  that  pretty  fantastical 
poem  of  Drayton's,  call'd — Nymphidia,  or  The 
Court  of  Fairy,  be  early  enough  in  time,  (as,  I  be- 
lieve, it  is ;  for  I  have  seen  an  edition  of  that 
author's  pastorals,  printed  in  1593,  quarto,)  it  is 
not  improbable,  that  Shakspeare  took  from  thence 
the  hint  of  his  fairies:  a  line  of  that  poem,  "  Tho- 
rough bush,  thorough  briar,"  occurs  also  in  his 
play.  The  rest  of  the  play  is,  doubtless,  inven- 
tion :  the  names  only  of  Theseus,  Hippolita,  and 
Theseus'  former  loves,  Antiopa  and  others,  being 
historical ;  and  taken  from  the  translated  Plutarch, 
in  the  article — Theseus. 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 

"  Timbree  de  Cardone  deviet  amoureux  a  Mes- 
sine  de  Fenicie  Leonati,  &  des  divers  &  estrages 
accidens  qui  advindret  avat  qu'il  1'  espousast." — is 
the  title  of  another  novel  in  the  Histoires  Tragiques 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    387 

of  Belleforest ;  Tom.  3.  Hist.  18:  it  is  taken  from 
one  of  Bandello's,  which  you  may  see  in  his  first 
tome,  at  p.  150,  of  the  London  edition  in  quarto, 
a  copy  from  that  of  Lucca  in  1554.  This  French 
novel  comes  the  nearest  to  the  fable  of  Much  Ado 
about  Nothing,  of  any  thing  that  has  yet  been  dis- 
covered, and  is  (perhaps)  the  foundation  of  it. 
There  js  a  story  something  like  it  in  the  fifth  book 
of  Orlando  Furioso:  (v.  Sir  John  Harrington's 
translation  of  it,  edit.  1591,  folio)  and  another  in 
Spencer's  Fairy  Queen. 

Othello. 

Cinthio,  the  best  of  the  Italian  writers  next  to 
Boccace,  has  a  novel  thus  intitl'd : — "  Un  Capi- 
tano  Moro  piglia  per  mogliera  una  cittadina  vene- 
tiana,  un  suo  Alfieri  l'accusa  de  adulterio  al  [read, 
il,  with  a  colon  after — adulterio]  Marito,  cerca,  che 
1' Alfieri  uccida  colui,  ch'egli  credea  I'Adultero, 
il  Gapitano  uccide  la  Moglie,  e  accusato  dallo  Al- 
fieri, non  confessa  il  Moro,  ma  essendovi  chiari 
inditii,  e  bandito,  Et  lo  scelerato  Alfieri,  credendo 
nuocere  ad  altri,  procaccia  a  se  la  morte  misera- 
mente."  Hecatommithi,  Dec.  3,  Nov.  7 ;  edit. 
1565,  two  tomes,  octavo.  If  there  was  no  transla- 
tion of  this  novel,  French  or  English  ;  nor  any 
thing  built  upon  it,  either  in  prose  or  verse,  near 
enough  in  time  for  Shakspeare  to  take  his  Othello 
from  them;  we  must,  I  think,  conclude — that  he 
had  it  from  the  Italian  ;  for  the  story  (at  least,  in 
all  it's  main  circumstances)  is  apparently  the  same. 

Romeo  and  Juliet. 

This  very  affecting  story  is  likewise  a  true  one; 
it  made  a  great  noise  at  the  time  it  happen'd,  ami 

c  c  2 


388    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

was  soon  taken  up  by  poets  and  novel-writers. 
Bandello  has  one  ;  it  is  the  ninth  of  tome  the  se- 
cond :  and  there  is  another,  and  much  better,  left 
us  by  some  anonymous  writer ;  of  which  I  have 
an  edition,  printed  in  1553  at  Venice,  one  year 
before  Bandello,  which  yet  was  not  the  first.  Some 
small  time  after,  Pierre  Boisteau,  a  French  writer, 
put  out  one  upon  the  same  subject,  taken  from 
these  Italians,  but  much  alter'd  and  enlarg'd:  this 
novel,  together  with  five  others  of  Boisteau' s  pen- 
ning, Belleforest  took  ;  and  they  now  stand  at  the 
beginning  of  his  HistoiresTragiques,  edition  before- 
mention'd.  But  it  had  some  prior  edition ;  which 
falling  into  the  hands  of  a  countryman  of  ours,  he 
converted  it  into  a  poem ;  altering,  and  adding 
many  things  to  it  of  his  own,  and  publish'd  it  in 
1562,  without  a  name,  in  a  small  octavo  volume, 
printed  by  Richard  Tottill;  and  this  poem,  which  is 
call'd — The  Tragical  Historie  qfRomeus  and  Juliet, 
is  the  origin  of  Shakspeare's  play:  who  not  only 
follows  it  even  minutely  in  the  conduct  of  his  fable, 
and  that  in  those  places  where  it  differs  from  the 
other  writers ;  but  has  also  borrow'd  from  it  some 
few  thoughts,  and  expressions.  At  the  end  of  a 
small  poetical  miscellany,  publish'd  by  one  George 
Turberville  in  1570,  there  is  a  poem — "  On  the 
death  of  Maister  Arthur  Brooke  drownde  in  pass- 
ing to  New-haven;"  in  which  it  appears,  that  this 
gentleman,  (who,  it  is  likely,  was  a  military  man,) 
was  the  writer  of  Romeus  and  Juliet.  In  the  second 
tome  of  The  Palace  of  Pleasure,  (Nov.  25.)  there 
is  a  prose  translation  of  Boisteau's  novel  j  but 
Shakspeare  made  no  use  of  it 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.   389 


Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

Nothing  has  yet  been  produc'd  that  is  likely  to 
have  given  the  poet  occasion  for  writing  this  play, 
neither  has  it  (in  truth)  the  air  of  a  novel,  so  that 
we  may  reasonably  suppose  it  a  work  of  invention; 
that  part  of  it,  I  mean,  which  gives  it  it's  title. 
For  one  of  it's  underwalks,  or  plots, — to  wit,  the 
story  of  Lucentio,  in  almost  all  it's  branches,  (his 
love-affair,  and  the  artificial  conduct  of  it ;  the 
pleasant  incident  of  the  Pedant ;  and  the  charac- 
ters of  Vincentio,  Tranio,  Gremio,  and  Biondello,) 
is  form'd  upon  a  comedy  of  George  Gascoigne's, 
call'd — Supposes,  a  translation  from  Ariosto's  / 
Suppositi:  which  comedy  was  acted  by  the  gentle- 
men of  Grey's  Inn  in  1566;  and  may  be  seen  in 
the  translator's  works,  of  which  there  are  several 
old  editions :  and  the  odd  induction  of  this  play  is 
taken  from  Goulart's  Histoires  admirables  de  notre 
Temps;  who  relates  it  as  a  real  fact,  practis'd  upon 
a  mean  artisan  at  Brussels  by  Philip  the  good, 
duke  of  Burgundy.     Goulart  was  translated  into 
English,  by  one  Edw.  Grimeston :  the  edition  I 
have  of  it,  was  printed  in  1607,  quarto,  by  George 
Eld ;  where  this  story  may  be  found,  at  p.  587 : 
but,  for  any  thing  that  there  appears  to  the  con- 
trary, the  book  might  have  been  printed  before. 

Tempest. 

The  Tempest  has  rather  more  of  the  novel  in  it 
than  the  play  that  was  last  spoken  of:  but  no  one 
has  yet  pretended  to  have  met  with  such  a  novel ; 
nor  any  thing  else,  that  can  be  suppos'd  to  have 
furnish'd  Shakspeare  with  materials  for  writing 


390   MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

this  play :  the  fable  of  which  must  therefore  pass 
for  entirely  his  own  production,  'till  the  contrary 
can  be  made  appear  by  any  future  discovery.  One 
of  the  poet's  editors,  after  observing  that — the 
persons  of  the  drama  are  all  Italians ;  and  the 
unities  all  regularly  observ'd  in  it,  a  custom  like- 
wise of  the  Italians ;  concludes  his  note  with  the 
mention  of  two  of  their  plays, — //  Negromante  di 
L.  Ariosto,  and  //  Negromante  Palliato  di  Gio.  An- 
gelo  Petrucci ;  one  or  other  of  which,  he  seems  to 
think,  may  have  given  rise  to  the  Tempest :  but 
he  is  mistaken  in  both  of  them  ;  and  the  last  must 
needs  be  out  of  the  question,  being  later  than 
Shakspeare's  time. 

Titus  Andronicus. 

An  old  ballad,  whose  date  and  time  of  writing 
can  not  be  ascertain'd,  is  the  ground  work  of  Titus 
Andronicus:  the  names  of  the  persons  acting,  and 
almost  every  incident  of  the  play  are  there  in  mi- 
niature: — it  is,  indeed,  so  like, — that  one  might 
be  tempted  to  suspect,  that  the  ballad  was  form'd 
upon  the  play,  and  not  that  upon  the  ballad;  were 
it  not  sufficiently  known,  that  almost  all  the  com- 
positions of  that  sort  are  prior  to  even  the  infancy 
of  Shakspeare. 

Troilus  and  Cressida. 

The  loves  of  Troilus  and  Cressida  are  celebrated 
by  Chaucer :  whose  poem  might,  perhaps,  induce 
Shakspeare  to  work  them  up  into  a  play.  The 
other  matters  of  that  play  (historical,  or  fabulous, 
call  them  which  you  will,)  he  had  out  of  an  ancient 
book,  written  and  printed  first  by  Caxton,  calPd 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.   391 

—  The  Destruction  of  Troy,  in  three  parts:  in  the 
third  part  of  it,  are  many  strange  particulars,  oc- 
curring no  where  else,  which  Snakspeare  has  ad- 
mitted into  his  play. 

Twelfth-Night. 

Another  of  Belleforest's  novels  is  thus  intitl'd: — 
"  Comme  une  fille  Romaine  se  vestant  en  page  ser- 
vist  long  temps  un  sien  amy  sans  estre  cogneue,  & 
depuis  l'eut  a  mary  avec  autres  divers  discours." 
Histoires  Tragiques ;  Tom.  4,  Hist.  7-  This  novel, 
which  is  itself  taken  from  one  of  Bandello's  (v. 
Tom.  2,  Nov.  36,)  is,  to  all  appearance,  the  foun- 
dation of  the  serious  part  of  Twelfth-Night :  and 
must  be  so  accounted;  'till  some  English  novel 
appears,  built  (perhaps)  upon  that  French  one,  but 
approaching  nearer  to  Shakspeare's  comedy. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

Julia's  love-adventures  being  in  some  respects 
the  same  with  those  of  Viola  in  Twelfth-Night,  the 
same  novel  might  give  rise  to  them  both  ;  and  Va- 
lentine's falling  amongst  out-laws,  and  becoming 
their  captain,  is  an  incident  that  has  some  resem- 
blance to  one  in  the  Arcadia,  (Book  I,  chap.  6.) 
where  Pyrocles  heads  the  Helots :  all  the  other 
circumstances  which  constitute  the  fable  of  this 
play,  are,  probably  of  the  poet's  own  invention. 

Winter's  Tale. 

To  the  story-book,  or  Pleasant  History  (as  it  is 
call'd)  ofDorastus  and  Fatcma,  written  by  Robert 


392    MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

Greene,  M.  A.  we  are  indebted  for  Shakspeare's 
JVinter's  Tale.  Greene  join 'd  with  Dr.  Lodge  in 
writing  a  play,  call'd  A  Looking-Glassjbr  London 
and  England,  printed  in  1598,  in  quarto,  and  black 
letter ;  and  many  of  his  other  works,  which  are 
very  numerous,  were  publish'd  about  that  time, 
and  this  amongst  the  rest :  it  went  through  many 
impressions,  all  of  the  same  form  and  letter  as  the 
play;  and  that  so  low  down  as  the  year  1664,  of 
which  year  I  have  a  copy.  Upon  this  occasion,  I 
shall  venture  to  pronounce  an  opinion,  that  has 
been  reserv'd  for  this  place,  (though  other  plays 
too  were  concern'd  in  it,  as  Hamlet  and  Cymbeline  J 
which  if  it  be  found  true,  as  I  believe  it  will,  may 
be  of  use  to  settle  many  disputed  points  in  literary 
chronology.  My  opinion  is  this : — that  almost  all 
books,  or  the  gothick  or  black  character,  printed 
any  thing  late  in  the  seventeenth  century,  are  in 
truth  only  re-impressions ;  they  having  pass'd  the 
press  before  in  the  preceding  century,  or  (at  least) 
very  soon  after.  For  the  character  began  then  to 
be  disus'd  in  the  printing  of  new  books  :  but  the 
types  remaining,  the  owners  of  them  found  a  con- 
venience in  using  them  for  books  that  had  been 
before  printed  in  them ;  and  to  this  convenience 
of  theirs  are  owing  all  or  most  of  those  impressions 
posterior  to  1 600.  It  is  left  to  the  reader's  saga- 
city, to  apply  this  remark  to  the  book  in  the  present 
article ;  and  to  those  he  finds  mention'd  before,  in 
the  articles — Hamlet  and  Cymbeline. 

Such  are  the  materials,  out  of  which  this  great 
poet  has  rais'd  a  structure,  which  no  time  shall 
efface,  nor  any  envy  be  strong  enough  to  lessen  the 
admiration  that  is  so  justly  due  to  it;  which  if  it 
was  great  before,  cannot  fail  to  receive  encrease 
with  the  judicious,  when  the  account  that  has  been 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    393 

now  given  them  is  reflected  upon  duly:  other  ori- 
ginals have,  indeed,  been  pretended ;  and  much 
extraordinary  criticism  has,  at  different  times,  and 
by  different  people,  been  spun  out  of  those  con- 
ceits ;  but,  except  some  few  articles  in  which  the 
writer  professes  openly  his  ignorance  of  the  sources 
they  are  drawn  from,  and  some  others  in  which  he 
delivers  himself  doubtfully,  what  is  said  in  the  pre- 
ceding leaves  concerning  these  fables  may  with  all 
certainty  be  rely'd  upon. 

How  much  is  it  to  be  wish'd,  that  something 
equally  certain,  and  indeed  worthy  to  be  intiti'd — 
a  Life  of  Shakspeare,  could  accompany  this  rela- 
tion, and  complete  the  tale  of  those  pieces  which 
the  publick  is  apt  to  expect  before  new  editions  ? 
But  that  nothing  of  this  sort  is  at  present  in  being, 
may  be  said  without  breach  of  candour,  as  we  think, 
or  suspicion  of  over  much  niceness  :  an  imperfect 
and  loose  account  of  his  father,  and  family;  his 
own  marriage,  and  the  issue  of  it ;  some  traditional 
stories, — many  of  them  trifling  in  themselves,  sup- 
ported by  small  authority,  and  seemingly  ill- 
grounded  ;  together  with  his  life's  final  period  as 
gather'd  from  nis  monument,  is  the  full  and  whole 
amount  of  historical  matter  that  is  in  any  of  these 
writings ;  in  which  the  critick  and  essayist  swallow 
up  the  biographer,  who  yet  ought  to  take  the  lead 
in  them.  The  truth  is,  the  occurrences  of  this 
most  interesting  life  (we  mean,  the  private  ones) 
are  irrecoverably  lost  to  us ;  the  friendly  office  of 
registring  them  was  overlook'd  by  those  who  alone 
had  it  in  their  power,  and  our  enquiries  about  them 
now  must  prove  vain  and  thrown  away.  But  there 
is  another  sort  of  them  that  is  not  quite  so  hope- 
less; which  besides  affording  us  the  prospect  of 
some  good  issue  to  our  endeavours,  do  also  invite 


S94   MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION. 

us  to  them  by  the  promise  of  a  much  better  re- 
ward for  them  :  the  knowledge  of  his  private  life 
had  done  little  more  than  gratify  our  curiosity,  but 
his  publick  one  as  a  writer  would  have  conse- 
quences more  important ;  a  discovery  there  would 
throw  a  new  light  upon  many  of  his  pieces  ;  and, 
where  rashness  only  is  shew'd  in  the  opinions  that 
are  now  current  about  them,  a  judgment  might 
then  be  form'd,  which  perhaps  would  do  credit  to 
the  giver  of  it.  When  he  commenc'd  a  writer  for 
the  stage,  and  in  which  play ;  what  the  order  of 
the  rest  of  them,  and  (if  that  be  discoverable) 
what  the  occasion ;  and,  lastly,  for  which  of  the 
numerous  theatres  that  were  then  subsisting  they 
were  severally  written  at  first, — are  the  particulars 
that  should  chiefly  engage  the  attention  of  a  writer 
of  Shakspeare's  Life,  and  be  the  principal  subjects 
of  his  enquiry :  to  assist  him  in  which,  the  first 
impressions  of  these  plays  will  do  something,  and 
their  title-pages  at  large,  which,  upon  that  ac- 
count, we  mean  to  give  in  another  work  that  will 
accompany  The  School  of  Shakspeare ;  and  some- 
thing the  School  itself  will  afford,  that  may  contri- 
bute to  the  same  service  :  but  the  corner-stone  of 
all,  must  be — the  works  of  the  poet  himself,  from 
which  much  may  be  extracted  by  a  heedful  peruser 
of  them  ;  and,  for  the  sake  of  such  a  peruser,  and 
by  way  of  putting  him  into  the  train  when  the  plays 
are  before  him,  we  shall  instance  in  one  of  them  ; 
— the  time  in  which  Henry  V.  was  written,  is  de- 
termin'd  almost  precisely  by  a  passage  in  the  chorus 
to  the  fifth  act,  and  the  concluding  chorus  of  it 
contains  matter  relative  to  Henry  VI. :  other  plays 
might  be  mention'd,  as  Henry  VIII.  and  Macbeth; 
but  this  one  may  be  sufficient  to  answer  our  inten- 
tion in  producing  it,  which  was — to  spirit  some 


MR.  CAPELL'S  INTRODUCTION.    395 

one  up  to  this  task  in  some  future  time,  by  shewing 
the  possibility  of  it;  which  he  may  be  further  con- 
vinc'd  of,  if  he  reflects  what  great  things  have  been 
done,  by  criticks  amongst  ourselves,  upon  subjects 
of  this  sort,  and  of  a-more  remov'd  antiquity  than 
he  is  concern'd  in.  A  Life  thus  constructed,  inter- 
spers'd  with  such  anecdotes  of  common  notoriety 
as  the  writer's  judgment  shall  tell  him — are  worth 
regard;  together  with  some  memorials  of  this  poet 
that  are  happily  come  down  to  us  ;  such  as,  an  in- 
strument in  the  Heralds'  Office,  confirming  arms 
to  his  father;  a  Patent  preserv'd  in  Rymer,  granted 
by  James  the  First ;  his  last  Will  and  Testament, 
extant  now  at  Doctors  Commons ;  his  Stratford 
monument,  and  a  monument  of  his  daughter  which 
is  said  to  be  there  also ; — such  a  Life  would  rise 
quickly  into  a  volume ;  especially,  with  the  addi- 
tion of  one  proper  and  even  necessary  episode — ■ 
a  brief  history  of  our  drama,  from  its  origin  down 
to  the  poet's  death :  even  the  stage  he  appear'd 
upon,  it's  form,  dressings,  actors  should  be  en- 
quir'd  into,  as  every  one  of  those  circumstances 
had  some  considerable  effect  upon  what  he  com- 
pos'd  for  it :  The  subject  is  certainly  a  good  one, 
and  will  fall  (we  hope)  ere  it  be  long  into  the  hands 
of  some  good  writer  ;  by  whose  abilities  this  great 
want  may  at  length  be  made  un  to  us,  ana  the 
world  of  letters  enrich'd  by  the  happy  acquisition 
of  a  masterly  Life  of  Shakspcare.     Cafell. 


MR.  STEEVENS'S 

ADVERTISEMENT 

TO    THE 

reader; 


I  HE  want  of  adherence  to  the  old  copies,  which 
has  been  complained  of,  in  the  text  of  every  mo- 
dern republication  of  Shakspeare,  is  fairly  dedu- 
cible  from  Mr.  Rowe's  inattention  to  one  of  the 
first  duties  of  an  editor.6  Mr.  Rowe  did  not  print 
from  the  earliest  and  most  correct,  but  from  the 
most  remote  and  inaccurate  of  the  four  folios.  Be- 
tween the  years  1623  and  1685  (the  dates  of  the 

*  First  printed  in  1773.    Malone. 

6  "  I  must  not  (says  Mr.  Rowe  in  his  dedication  to  the  Duke 
of  Somerset)  pretend  to  have  restor'd  this  work  to  the  exactness 
of  the  author's  original  manuscripts  :  those,  are  lost,  or,  at  least, 
are  gone  beyond  any  enquiry  I  could  make  ;  so  that  there  was 
nothing  left,  but  to  compare  the  several  editions,  and  give  the 
true  reading  as  well  as  I  could  from  thence.  This  I  have  endea- 
vour'd  to  do  pretty  carefully,  and  render'd  very  many  places  in- 
telligible, that  were  not  so  before.  In  some  of  the  editions,  es- 
pecially the  last,  there  were  many  lines  (and  in  Hamlet  one 
whole  scene)  left  out  together;  these  are  now  all  supply'd.  I 
fear  your  grace  will  find  some  faults,  but  I  hope  they  are  mostly 
literal,  and  the  errors  of  the  press."  Would  not  any  one,  from 
this  declaration,  suppose  that  Mr.  Rowe  (who  does  not  appear  to 
have  consulted  a  single  quarto)  had  at  least  compared  the  folios 
with  each  other  ?     Steevens. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  S97 

first  and  last)  the  errors  in  every  play,  at  least, 
were  trebled.  Several  pages  in  eacli  of  these  an- 
cient editions  have  been  examined,  that  the  asser- 
tion might  come  more  fully  supported.  It  may  be 
added,  that  as  every  fresh  editor  continued  to  make 
the  text  of  his  predecessor  the  ground-work  of  his 
own  (never  collating  but  where  difficulties  oc- 
curred) some  deviations  from  the  originals  had 
been  handed  down,  the  number  of  which  are  les- 
sened in  the  impression  before  us,  as  it  has  been 
constantly  compared  with  the  most  authentick 
copies,  whether  collation  was  absolutely  necessary 
for  the  recovery  of  sense,  or  not.  The  person  who 
undertook  this  task  may  have  failed  by  inadver- 
tency, as  well  as  those  who  preceded  him  ;  but  the 
reader  may  be  assured,  that  he,  who  thought  it  his 
duty  to  free  an  author  from  such  modern  and 
unnecessary  innovations  as  had  been  censured  in 
others,  has  not  ventured  to  introduce  any  of  his 
own. 

It  is  not  pretended  that  a  complete  body  of 
various  readings  is  here  collected  ;  or  that  all  the 
diversities  which  the  copies  exhibit,  are  pointed 
out;  as  near  two  thirds  of  them  are  typographical 
mistakes,  or  such  a  change  of  insignificant  parti- 
cles, as  would  croud  the  bottom  of  the  page  with 
an  ostentation  of  materials,  from  which  at  last  no- 
thing useful  could  be  selected. 

The  dialogue  might  indeed  sometimes  be  length- 
ened by  other  insertions  than  have  hitherto  been 
made,  but  without  advantage  either  to  its  spirit  or 
beauty  as  in  the  following  instance : 

"  Lear.  No. 

"  Kent.  Yes. 

"  Lear.  No,  I  say. 

"  Kent.  I  say,  yea." 


398  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

Here  the  quartos  add : 

"  Lear.  No,  no,  they  would  not. 
"  Kent.   Yes,  they  have" 

By  the  admission  of  this  negation  and  affirmation, 
has  any  new  idea  been  gained  ? 

The  labours  of  preceding  editors  have  not  left 
room  for  a  boast,  that  many  valuable  readings  have 
been  retrieved  ;  though  it  may  be  fairly  asserted, 
that  the  text  of  Shakspeare  is  restored  to  the  con- 
dition in  which  the  author,  or  rather  his  first  pub- 
lishers, appear  to  have  left  it,  such  emendations 
as  were  absolutely  necessary,  alone  admitted  :  for 
where  a  particle,  indispensably  necessary  to  the 
sense  was  wanting,  such  a  supply  has  been  silently 
adopted  from  other  editions;  but  where  a  syllable, 
or  more,  had  been  added  for  the  sake  of  the  metre 
only,  which  at  first  might  have  been  irregular,7 
such  interpolations  are  here  constantly  retrenched, 
sometimes  with,  and  sometimes  without  notice. 
Those  speeches,  which  in  the  elder  editions  are 
printed  as  prose,  and  from  their  own  construction 
are  incapable  of  being  compressed  into  verse,  with- 
out the  aid  of  supplemental  syllables,  are  restored 
to  prose  again  ;  and  the  measure  is  divided  afresh 
in  others,  where  the  mass  of  words  had  been  in- 
harmoniously  separated  into  lines. 

The  scenery,  throughout  all  the  plays,  is  regu- 
lated in  conformity  to  a  rule,  which  the  poet,  by 
his  general  practice  seems  to  have  proposed  to  him- 
self. Several  of  his  pieces  are  come  down  to  us, 
divided  into  scenes  as  well  as  acts.  These  divisions 
were  properly  his  own,  as  they  are  made  on  settled 


7  I  retract  this  supposition,  which  was  too  hastily  formed.  See 
note  on  The  Tempest,  Vol.  IV.  p.  73.     Steevens. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  399 

principles,  which  would  hardly  have  been  the  case, 
had  the  task  been  executed  by  the  players.  A 
change  of  scene,  with  Shakspeare,  most  commonly 
implies  a  change  of  place,  but  always  an  entire 
evacuation  of  the  stage.  The  custom  of  distin- 
guishing every  entrance  or  exit  by  a  fresh  scene, 
was  adopted,  perhaps  very  idly,  from  the  French 
theatre. 

For  the  length  of  many  notes,  and  the  accumu- 
lation of  examples  in  others,  some  apology  may 
be  likewise  expected.  An  attempt  at  brevity  is 
often  found  to  be  the  source  of  an  imperfect  ex- 
planation. Where  a  passage  has  been  constantly 
misunderstood,  or  where  the  jest  or  pleasantry  has 
been  suffered  to  remain  long  in  obscurity,  more 
instances  have  been  brought  to  clear  the  one,  or 
elucidate  the  other,  than  appear  at  first  sight  to 
have  been  necessary.  For  these  it  can  only  be 
said,  that  when  they  prove  that  phraseology  or 
source  of  merriment  to  have  been  once  general, 
which  at  present  seems  particular,  they  are  not 

?iuite  impertinently  intruded  ;  as  they  may  serve  to 
ree  the  author  from  a  suspicion  of  having  em- 
ployed an  affected  singularity  of  expression,  or 
indulged  himself  in  allusions  to  transient  customs, 
which  were  not  of  sufficient  notoriety  to  deserve 
ridicule  or  reprehension.  When  examples  in  favour 
of  contradictory  opinions  are  assembled,  though 
no  attempt  is  made  to  decide  on  cither  part,  such 
neutral  collections  should  always  be  regarded  as 
materials  for  future  criticks,  who  may  hereafter 
apply  them  with  success.  Authorities,  whether  in 
respect  of  words,  or  things,  are  not  always  pro- 
ducible from  the  most  celebrated  writers;-  yet  such 

•  Mr.  T.  Warton  in  his  excellent  Remarks  on  thr  Fairy  Qurrn 
of  Spenser,  offers  a  similar  apology  tor  having  introduced  UIus- 


400  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

circumstances  as  fall  below  the  notice  of  history, 
can  only  be  sought  in  the  jest-book,  the  satire,  or 
the  play ;  and  the  novel,  whose  fashion  did  not  out- 
live a  week,  is  sometimes  necessary  to  throw  light 
on  those  annals  which  take  in  the  compass  of  an 
age.  Those,  therefore,  who  would  wish  to  have 
the  peculiarities  of  Nym  familiarized  to  their  ideas, 
must  excuse  the  insertion  of  such  an  epigram  as  best 


trations  from  obsolete  literature.  "  I  fear  (says  he)  I  shall  be 
censured  for  quoting  too  many  pieces  of  this  sort.  But  expe- 
rience has  fatally  proved,  that  the  commentator  on  Spenser, 
Jonson,  and  the  rest  of  our  elder  poets,  will  in  vain  give  speci- 
mens of  his  classical  erudition,  unless,  at  the  same  time,  he  brings 
to  his  work  a  mind  intimately  acquainted  with  those  books, 
which,  though  now  forgotten,  were  yet  in  common  use  and  high 
repute  about  the  time  in  which  his  authors  respectively  wrote, 
and  which  they  consequently  must  have  read.  While  these  are 
unknown,  many  allusions  and  many  imitations  will  either  remain 
obscure,  or  lose  half  their  beauty  and  propriety :  *  as  the  figures 
vanish  when  the  canvas  is  decayed.' 

"  Pope  laughs  at  Theobald  for  giving  us,  in  his  edition  of 
Shakspeare,  a  sample  of 

— —  all  such  reading  as  was  never  read. 
But  these  strange  and  ridiculous  books  which  Theobald  quoted, 
were  unluckily  the  very  books  which  Shakspeahe  himself  had 
studied  :  the  knowledge  of  which  enabled  that  useful  editor  to 
explain  so  many  different  allusions  and  obsolete  customs  in  his 
poet,  which  otherwise  could  never  have  been  understood.  For 
want  of  this  sort  of  literature,  Pope  tells  us  that  the  dreadful 
Sagittary  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  signifies  Teucer,  so  celebrated 
for  his  skill  in  archery.  Had  he  deigned  to  consult  an  old  history, 
called  The  Destruction  of  Troy,  a  book  which  was  the  delight 
of  Shakspeare  and  of  his  age,  he  would  have  found  that  this 
formidable  archer,  was  no  other  than  an  imaginary  beast,  which 
the  Grecian  army  brought  against  Troy.  If  Shakspeare  is 
worth  reading,  he  is  worth  explaining ;  and  the  researches  used 
for  so  valuable  and  elegant  a  purpose,  merit  the  thanks  of  ge- 
nius and  candour,  not  the  satire  of  prejudice  and  ignorance. 
That  labour,  which  so  essentially  contributes  to  the  service  of 
true  taste,  deserves  a  more  honourable  repository  than  The 
Temple  of  Dullness."     Steevens. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  401 

suits  the  purpose,  however  tedious  in  itself;  and 
such  as  would  be  acquainted  with  the  propriety  of 
FalstafPs  allusion  to  stewed  prunes,  should  not  be 
disgusted  at  a  multitude  of  instances,  which,  when 
the  point  is  once  known  to  be  established,  may  be 
diminished  by  any  future  editor.  An  author  who 
catches  (as  Pope  expresses  it)  at  the  Cynthia  qfa  mi- 
nute, and  does  not  furnish  notes  to  his  own  works, 
is  sure  to  lose  half  the  praise  which  he  might  have 
claimed,  had  he  dealt  in  allusions  less  temporary, 
or  cleared  up  for  himself  those  difficulties  which 
lapse  of  time  must  inevitably  create. 

The  author  of  the  additional  notes  has  rather 
been  desirous  to  support  old  readings,  than  to  claim 
the  merit  of  introducing  new  ones.  He  desires  to 
be  regarded  as  one,  who  found  the  task  he  under- 
took more  arduous  than  it  seemed,  while  he  was 
yet  feeding  his  vanity  with  the  hopes  of  intro- 
ducing himself  to  the  world  as  an  editor  in  form. 
He,  who  has  discovered  in  himself  the  power  to 
rectify  a  few  mistakes  with  ease,  is  naturally  led  to 
imagine,  that  all  difficulties  must  yield  to  the  efforts 
of  future  labour ;  and  perhaps  feels  a  reluctance 
to  be  undeceived  at  last. 

Mr.  Steevens  desires  it  may  be  observed,  that  he 
has  strictly  complied  with  the  terms  exhibited  in 
his  proposals,  having  appropriated  all  such  assist- 
ances, as  he  received,  to  the  use  of  the  present 
editor,  whose  judgment  has,  in  every  instance, 
determined  on  their  respective  merits.  While  he 
enumerates  his  obligations  to  his  correspondents, 
it  is  necessary  that  one  comprehensive  remark 
should  be  made  on  such  communications  as  are 
omitted  in  this  edition,  though  they  might  have 
proved  of  great  advantage  to  a  more  daring  com- 
mentator.    The  majority  of  these  were  founded 

vol.  i.  u  i> 


402  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

on  the  supposition,  that  Shakspeare  was  originally 
an  author  correct  in  the  utmost  degree,  but  maimed 
and  interpolated  by  the  neglect  or  presumption  of 
the  players.  In  consequence  of  this  belief,  altera- 
tions have  been  proposed  wherever  a  verse  could 
be  harmonized,  an  epithet  exchanged  for  one  more 
apposite,  or  a  sentiment  rendered  less  perplexed. 
Had  the  general  current  of  advice  been  followed, 
the  notes  would  have  been  rilled  with  attempts  at 
emendation  apparently  unnecessary,  though  some- 
times elegant,  and  as  frequently  with  explanations 
of  what  none  would  have  thought  difficult.  A 
constant  peruser  of  Shakspeare  will  suppose  what- 
ever is  easy  to  his  own  apprehension,  will  prove  so 
to  that  of  others,  and  consequently  may  pass  over 
some  real  perplexities  in  silence.  On  the  con- 
trary, if  in  consideration  of  the  different  abilities 
of  every  class  of  readers,  he  should  offer  a  comment 
on  all  harsh  inversions  of  phrase,  or  peculiarities  of 
expression,  he  will  at  once  excite  the  disgust  and 
displeasure  of  such  as  think  their  own  knowledge 
or  sagacity  undervalued.  It  is  difficult  to  fix  a 
medium  between  doing  too  little  and  too  much  in 
the  task  of  mere  explanation.  There  are  yet  many 
passages  unexplained  and  unintelligible,  which  may 
be  reformed,  at  hazard  of  whatever  licence,  for 
exhibitions  on  the  stage,  in  which  the  pleasure  of 
the  audience  is  chiefly  to  be  considered ;  but  must 
remain  untouched  by  the  critical  editor,  whose 
conjectures  are  limited  by  narrow  bounds,  and  who 
gives  only  what  he  at  least  supposes  his  author  to 
have  written. 

If  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  each  vitiated 
passage  in  Shakspeare  can  be  restored,  till  a  greater 
latitude  of  experiment  shall  be  allowed;  so  neither 
can  it  be  supposed  that  the  force  of  all  his  allusions 


ADVERTISEMENT.  403 

will  be  pointed  out,  till  such  books  are  thoroughly 
examined,  as  cannot  easily  at  present  be  collected, 
if  at  all.  Several  of  the  most  correct  lists  of  our 
dramatick  pieces  exhibit  the  titles  of  plays,  which 
are  not  to  be  met  with  in  the  completest  collec- 
tions. It  is  almost  unnecessary  to  mention  any 
other  than  Mr.  Garrick's,  which,  curious  and  ex- 
tensive as  it  is,  derives  its  greatest  value  from  its 
accessibility.9 

•  There  is  reason  to  think  that  about  the  time  of  the  Reforma- 
tion, great  numbers  of  plays  were  printed,  though  few  of  that 
age  are  now  to  be  found ;  for  part  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  injunc- 
tions in  1559,  are  particularly  directed  to  the  suppressing  of 
"  Many  pamphlets,  hi.  a  yes,  and  ballads:  that  no  manner  of 
person  shall  enterprize  to  print  any  such,  &c.  but  under  certain 
restrictions."  Vid.  Sect.  V.  This  observation  is  taken  from  Dr. 
Percy's  additions  to  his  Essay  on  the  Origin  of  the  English  Stage. 
It  appears  likewise  from  a  page  at  the  conclusion  of  the  second 
volume  of  the  entries  belonging  to  the  Stationers'  Company,  that 
in  the  41st  year  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  many  new  restraint  on 
booksellers  were  laid.  Among  these  are  the  following :  "  That 
no  playes  be  printed  excepte  they  bee  allowed  by  such  as  have 
auctoritye."  The  records  of  the  Stationers,  however,  contain 
the  entries  of  some  which  have  never  yet  been  met  with  by  the 
most  successful  collectors ;  nor  are  their  titles  to  be  found  in  any 
registers  of  the  stage,  whether  ancient  or  modern.  It  should  seem 
from  the  same  volumes  that  it  was  customary  for  the  Stationers 
to  seize  the  whole  impression  of  any  work  that  had  given  offence, 
and  burn  it  publickly  at  their  hall,  in  obedience  to  the  edicts  of 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  the  Bishop  of  London,  who 
sometimes  enjoyed  these  literary  executions  at  their  respective 

Salaces.     Among  other  works  condemned  to  the  flames  by  these 
iscerning  prelates,  were  the  complete  Satires  of  Bishop  Hull.* 
Mr.  Theobald,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  preface  to  his  Hn»t  edi- 
tion ofShakcpeare,  asserts,  that  exclusive  of  the  dramas  of  Ben 
Jonson,  and  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  he  had  read  "  ubove  bOO 
of  old  English  plays."     He  omitted  thin  assertion,  however,  on 

*  Law,  Pfmiok,  and  Divinity,  b).  J.  may  be  found  on  retry  rt«B.  Haya, 
poetry,  and  novel*,  were  destroyed  puhlckh  by  the  Bi«h»p*,  and  «*is<t/e/» 
by  the  Puritan*.  Hi-n«v  the  infinite  number  of  them  entirely  lo»t,  for  which 
httn.ti  were  procured,  Sec.     Fajimkr. 

u  i>  2 


404  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

To  the  other  evils  of  our  civil  war  must  be  add- 
ed the  interruption  of  polite  learning,  and  the 
suppression  of  many  dramatick  and  poetical  names, 
which  were  plunged  in  obscurity  by  tumults  and 
revolutions,  and  have  never  since  attracted  cu- 
riosity. The  utter  neglect  of  ancient  English  lite- 
rature continued  so  long,  that  many  books  may  be 
supposed  to  be  lost ;  and  that  curiosity,  which 
has  been  now  for  some  years  increasing  among 
us,  wants  materials  for  its  operations.  Books  and 
pamphlets,  printed  originally  in  small  numbers, 

the  republication  of  the  same  work,  and,  I  hope,  he  did  so, 
through  a  consciousness  of  its  utter  falshood  ;  for  if  we  except 
the  plays  of  the  authors  already  mentioned,  it  would  be  difficult 
to  discover  half  the  number  that  were  written  early  enough  to 
serve  the  purpose  for  which  he  pretends  to  have  perused  the 
imaginary  stock  of  ancient  literature. 

I  might  add,  that  the  private  collection  of  Mr.  Theobald, 
which,  including  the  plays  of  Jonson,  Fletcher,  and  Shakspeare, 
did  not  amount  to  many  more  than  an  hundred,  remained  entire 
in  the  hands  of  the  late  Mr.  Tonson,  till  the  time  of  his  death. 
It  does  not  appear  that  any  other  collection  but  the  Harleian  was 
at  that  time  formed  ;  nor  does  Mr.  Theobald's  edition  contain 
any  intrinsick  evidences  of  so  comprehensive  an  examination  of 
our  eldest  dramatick  writers,  as  he  assumes  to  himself  the  merit 
of  having  made.     Steevens. 

Whatever  Mr.  Theobald  might  venture  to  assert,  there  is  suf- 
ficient evidence  existing  that  at  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  not 
possessed  of  more  than  295  quarto  plays  in  the  whole,  and  some 
of  these,  it  is  probable,  were  different  editions  of  the  same  play. 
He  died  shortly  after  the  6th  of  September,  1/44.  On  the  20th 
of  October  his  library  was  advertized  to  be  sold  by  auction,  by 
Charles  Corbett,  and  on  the  third  day  was  the  following  lot : 
"  295  Old  English  Plays  in  quarto,  some  of  them  so  scarce  as 
not  to  be  had  at  any  price:  to  many  of  which  are  MSS.  notes 
and  remarks  by  Mr.  Theobald,  all  done  up  neatly  in  boards  in 
single  plays.     They  will  all  be  sold  in  one  lot."     Reed. 

'There  were  about  five  hundred  and  fifty  plays  printed  before 
the  Restoration,  exclusive  of  those  written  by  Shakspeare, 
Jonson,  and  Fletcher.    Malone. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  405 

being  thus  neglected,  were  soon  destroyed ;  and 
though  the  capital  authors  were  preserved,  they 
were  preserved  to  languish  without  regard.  '  How 
little  Shakspeare  himself  was  once  read,  may  be 
understood  from  Tate**  who,  in  his  dedication  to 
the  altered  play  of  King  Lear,  speaks  of  the  ori- 
ginal as  of  an  obscure  piece,  recommended  to  his 
notice  by  a  friend ;  and  the  author  of  the  Tatler, 
having  occasion  to  quote  a  few  lines  out  of  Mac- 
fe//z,was  content  to  receive  them  from  D'  Avenant's 
alteration  of  that  celebrated  drama,  in  whicli  almost 

1  In  the  year  1707  Mr.  N.  Tate  published  a  tragedy  called 
Injured  Love,  or  the  Cruel  Husband,  and  in  the  title-page  calls 
himself  "  Author  of  the  tragedy  called  King  Lear." 

In  a  book  called  The  Actor,  or  a  Treatise  on  the  Art  of  Play- 
ing, l2mo.  published  in  1750,  and  imputed  to  Dr.  Hilf,  is  the 
following  pretended  extract  from  Romeo  and  Juliet,  with  the 
author's  remark  on  it : 

"  The  saints  that  heard  our  vows  and  know  our  love, 

"  Seeing  thy  faith  and  thy  unspotted  truth, 

"  Will  sure  take  care,  and  let  no  wrongs  annoy  thee. 

"  Upon  ray  knees  I'll  ask  them  every  day 

"  How  my  kind  Juliet  does  ;  aud  every  night, 

M  In  the  severe  distresses  of  my  fate, 

"  As  I  perhaps  shall  wander  through  the  desert, 

"  And  want  a  place  to  rest  my  weary  head  on, 

"  I'll  count  the  stars,  and  bless  'em  as  they  shine, 

"  And  court  them  all  for  my  dear  Juliet's  safety." 

u  The  reader  will  pardon  us  on  this  and  some  other  occasions, 
that  where  we  quote  passages  from  plays,  we  give  them  as  the 
author  gives  them,  not  as  the  butcherly  hand  of  a  blockhead 
prompter  may  have  lopped  them,  or  as  the  unequal  genius  of 
some  bungling  critic  mat/  have  attempted  to  mend  them.  Who- 
ever remembers  the  merit  of  the  player's  speaking  the  things  we 
celebrate  them  for,  we  are  pretty  confident  will  wish  he  spoke 
them  absolutely  as  wc  give  them,  that  is,  as  the  author  gives 
them.'* 

Perhaps  it  is  unnecessary  to  inform  the  reader  that  not  one  of 
the  lines  above  quoted,  is  to  be  found  in  the  Htrmeo  and  Juliet  of 
Shakspeare.  They  are  copied  from  the  Caius  Marius  of  Otway. 
St  be  tens. 


406  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

every  original  beauty  is  either  aukwardly  disguised, 
or  arbitrarily  omitted.  So  little  were  the  defects 
or  peculiarities  of  the  old  writers  known,  even  at 
the  beginning  of  our  century,  that  though  the 
custom  of  alliteration  had  prevailed  to  that  degree 
in  the  time  of  Shakspeare,  that  it  became  con- 
temptible and  ridiculous,  yet  it  is  made  one  of 
Waller's  praises  by  a  writer  of  his  life,  that  he 
first  introduced  this  practice  into  English  versifi- 
cation. 

It  will  be  expected  that  some  notice  should  be 
taken  ^of  the  last  editor  of  Shakspeare,  and  that  his 
merits  should  be  estimated  with  those  of  his  pre- 
decessors. Little,  however,  can  be  said  of  a  work, 
to  the  completion  of  which,  both  a  large  propor- 
tion of  the  commentary  and  various  readings  is  as 
yet  wanting.  The  Second  Part  of  King  Henry  VI. 
is  the  only  play  from  that  edition,  which  has  been 
consulted  in  the  course  of  this  work;  for  as  several 
passages  there  are  arbitrarily  omitted,  and  as  no 
notice  is  given  when  other  deviations  are  made 
from  the  old  copies,  it  was  of  little  consequence 
to  examine  any  further.  This  circumstance  is 
mentioned,  lest  such  accidental  coincidences  of 
opinion,  as  may  be  discovered  hereafter,  should 
be  interpreted  into  plagiarism. 

It  may  occasionally  happen,  that  some  of  the 
remarks  long  ago  produced  by  others,  are  offered 
again  as  recent  discoveries.  It  is  likewise  abso- 
lutely impossible  to  pronounce  with  any  degree  of 
certainty,  whence  all  the  hints,  which  furnish  mat- 
ter for  a  commentary,  have  been  collected,  as  they 
lay  scattered  in  many  books  and  papers,  which 
were  probably  never  read  but  once,  or  the  parti- 
culars which  they  contain  received  only  in  the 
course  of  common   conversation ;   nay,  what  is 


ADVERTISEMENT.  407 

called  plagiarism,  is  often  no  more  than  the  result 
of  having  thought  alike  with  others  on  the  same 
subject. 

The  dispute  about  the  learning  of  Shakspeare 
being  now  finally  settled,  a  catalogue  is  added  of 
those  translated  authors,  whom  Mr.  Pope  has 
thought  proper  to  call 

"  The  classicks  of  an  age  that  heard  of  none" 

The  reader  may  not  be  displeased  to  have  theGreek 
and  Roman  poets,  orators,  &c.  who  had  been  ren- 
dered accessible  to  our  author,  exposed  at  one 
view;2  especially  as  the  list  has  received  the  ad- 
vantage of  being  corrected  and  amplified  by  the 
Reverend  Dr.  Farmer,  the  substance  of  whose 
very  decisive  pamphlet  is  interspersed  through  the 
notes  which  are  added  in  this  revisal  of  Dr.  John- 
son's Shakspeare. 

To  those  who  have  advanced  the  reputation  of 
our  poet,  it  has  been  endeavoured,  by  Dr.  Johnson, 
in  a  foregoing  preface,  impartially  to  allot  their 
dividend  of  fame ;  and  it  is  with  great  regret  that 
we  now  add  to  the  catalogue,  another,  the  conse- 
quence of  whose  death  will  perhaps  affect  not  only 
the  works  of  Shakspeare,  but  of  many  other  wri- 
ters. Soon  after  the  first  appearance  of  this  edi- 
tion, a  disease,  rapid  in  its  progress,  deprived  the 
world  of  Mr.  Jacob  Tonson ;  a  man,  whose  zeal 
for  the  improvement  of  English  literature,  and 
whose  liberality  to  men  of  learning,  gave  him  a 
just  title  to  all  the  honours  which  men  of  learn- 
ing can  bestow.  To  suppose  that  a  person  em- 
ployed in  an  extensive  trade,  lived  in  a  state  of 

•  See  Vol.  II. 


408  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

indifference  to  loss  and  gain,  would  be  to  conceive 
a  character  incredible  and  romantick ;  but  it  may 
be  justly  said  of  Mr.  Tonson,  that  he  had  enlarged 
his  mind  beyond  solicitude  about  petty  losses,  and 
refined  it  from  the  desire  of  unreasonable  profit. 
He  was  willing  to  admit  those  with  whom  he  con- 
tracted, to  the  just  advantage  of  their  own  labours; 
and  had  never  learned  to  consider  the  author  as  an 
under-agent  to  the  bookseller.  The  wealth  which 
he  inherited  or  acquired,  he  enjoyed  like  a  man 
conscious  of  the  dignity  of  a  profession  subservient 
to  learning.  His  domestick  life  was  elegant,  and 
his  charity  was  liberal.  His  manners  were  soft, 
and  his  conversation  delicate :  nor  is,  perhaps,  any 
quality  in  him  more  to  be  censured,  than  that  re- 
serve which  confined  his  acquaintance  to  a  small 
number,  and  made  his  example  less  useful,  as  it 
was  less  extensive.  He  was  the  last  commercial 
name  of  a  family  which  will  be  long  remembered; 
and  if  Horace  thought  it  not  improper  to  convey 
the  Sosn  to  posterity;  ifrhetorick  suffered  no  dis- 
honour from  Quintilian's  dedication  to  Trypho  ; 
let  it  not  be  thought  that  we  disgrace  Shakspeare, 
by  appending  to  his  works  the  name  of  Tonson. 

To  this  prefatory  advertisement  I  have  now  sub- 
joined3 a  chapter  extracted  from  the  Gills  Horn- 
book, (a  satirical  pamphlet  written  by  Decker  in 
the  year  1609)  as  it  affords  the  reader  a  more 
complete  idea  of  the  customs  peculiar  to  our  an- 
cient theatres,  than  any  other  publication  which 
has  hitherto  fallen  in  my  way.  See  this  perform- 
ance, page  27. 


3  This  addition  to  Mr.  Steevens's  Advertisement  was  made  in 
1778.    Malone. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  409 


*  CHAP.  VI. 

"  How  a  Gallant  should  beliave  himself  in  a  Play- 
house. 

"  The  theatre  is  your  poet's  Royal  Exchange, 
upon  which,  their  muses  (that  are  now  turn'd  to 
merchants)  meeting,  barter  away  that  light  com- 
modity of  words  for  a  lighter  ware  than  words, 
plaudities  and  the  breath  of  the  great  beast,  which 
(like  the  threatnings  of  two  cowards)  vanish  all 
into  aire.  Platers  and  their  factors,  who  put  away 
the  stuffe  and  make  the  best  of  it  they  possibly 
can  (as  indeed  'tis  their  parts  so  to  doe)  your  gal- 
lant, your  courtier,  and  your  capten,  had  wont  to 
be  the  soundest  pay-masters,  and  I  thinke  are  still 
the  surest  chapmen :  and  these  by  meanes  that 
their  heades  are  well  stockt,  deale  upon  this  comical 
freight  by  the  grosse  j  when  your  groundling,  and 
gallery  commoner  buyes  his  sport  by  the  penny, 
and,  like  a  hagler,  is  glad  to  utter  it  againe  by  re- 
tailing. 

"  Sithence  then  the  place  is  so  free  in  entertain- 
ment, allowing  a  stoole  as  well  to  the  farmer's 
sonne  as  to  your  Templer :  that  your  stinkard  has 
the  self  same  libertie  to  be  there  in  his  tobacco 
fumes,  which  your  sweet  courtier  hath :  and  that 
your  carman  and  tinker  claime  as  strong  a  voice  in 
their  suffrage,  and  sit  to  give  judgment  on  the 
plaies'  life  and  death,  as  well  as  the  proudest 
Momus  among  the  tribe  ot'critick;  it  is  fit  that  hee, 
whom  the  most  tailors*  bils  do  make  room  for, 
when  he  comes,  should  not  be  basely  (like  a  vyoll) 
cas'd  up  in  a  corner. 

"  Whether  therefore  the  gatherers  of  the  pub- 


410  MR.  STEEVENS\S 

lique  or  private  play-house  stand  to  receive  the 
afternoone's  rent,  let  our  gallant  (having  paid  it) 
presently  advance  himself  up  to  the  throne  of  the 
stage.  I  meane  not  in  the  lords'  roome  (which  is 
now  but  the  stage's  suburbs).  No,  those  boxes  by 
the  iniquity  of  custome,  conspiracy  of  waiting- 
women,  and  gentlemen-ushers,  that  there  sweat 
together,  and  the  covetous  sharers,  are  contempti- 
bly thrust  into  the  reare,  and  much  new  satten  is 
there  dambd  by  being  smothered  to  death  in  dark- 
nesse.  But  on  the  very  rushes  where  the  comedy 
is  to  daunce,  yea  and  under  the  state  of  Cambises 
himselfe  must  our  feather'd  estridge,  like  a  piece 
of  ordnance  be  planted  valiantly  (because  impu- 
dently) beating  downe  the  mewes  and  hisses  of  the 
opposed  rascality. 

"  For  do  but  cast  up  a  reckoning,  what  large 
cummings  in  are  purs'd  up  by  sitting  on  the  stage. 
First  a  conspicuous  eminence  is  gotten,  by  which 
means  the  best  and  most  essential  parts  of  a  gal- 
lant (good  cloathes,  a  proportionable  legge,  white 
hand,  the  Persian  locke,  and  a  tollerable  beard,) 
are  perfectly  revealed. 

"  By  sitting  on  the  stage  you  have  a  sign'd  pat- 
tent  to  engrosse  the  whole  commodity  of  censure  ; 
may  lawfully  presume  to  be  a  girder ;  and  stand 
at  the  helme  to  steere  the  passage  of  scaenes,  yet 
no  man  shall  once  offer  to  hinder  you  from  obtain- 
ing the  title  of  an  insolent  over-weening  coxcombe. 

"  By  sitting  on  the  stage,  you  may  (without  tra- 
uelling  for  it)  at  the  very  next  doore,  aske  whose 
play  it  is :  and  by  that  quest  of  inquiry,  the  law 
warrants  you  to  avoid  much  mistaking :  if  you 
know  not  the  author,  you  may  raile  against  him  ; 
and  peradventure  so  behave  yourselfe,  that  you 
may  enforce  the  author  to  know  you. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  411 

"  By  sitting  on  the  stage,  if  you  be  a  knight,  you 
may  happily  get  you  a  mistresse :  if  a  mere  Fleet- 
street  gentleman,  a  wife  :  but  assure  yourselfe  by 
continuall  residence,  you  are  the  first  and  prin- 
cipall  man  in  election  to  begin  the  number  of  We 
three, 

"  By  spreading  your  body  on  the  stage,  and  by 
being  a  justice  in  examining  of  plaies,  you  shall  put 
yourselfe  into  such  a  true  scaenical  authority,  tnat 
some  poet  shall  not  dare  to  present  his  muse  rudely 
before  your  eyes,  without  having  first  unmaskt  her, 
rifled  her,  and  discovered  all  her  bare  and  most 
mystical  parts  before  you  at  a  taverne,  when  you 
most  knightly,  shal  for  his  paines,  pay  for  both 
their  suppers. 

"  By  sitting  on  the  stage,  you  may  (with  small 
cost)  purchase  the  deere  acquaintance  of  the  boyes: 
have  a  good  stoole  for  sixpence:  at  any  time  know 
what  particular  part  any  of  the  infants  present :  get 
your  match  lighted,  examine  the  play-suits'  lace, 
perhaps  win  wagers  upon  laying  'tis  copper,  &c. 
And  to  conclude,  whether  you  be  a  foole  or  a 
justice  of  peace,  a  cuckold  or  a  capten,  a  lord 
maior's  sonne  or  a  dawcocke,  a  knave  or  an  under 
shriefe,  of  what  stamp  soever  you  be,  currant  or 
counterfet,  the  stagelike  time  will  bring  you  to 
most  perfect  light,  and  lay  you  open  :  neither  are 
you  to  be  hunted  from  thence  though  the  scar- 
crowes  in  the  yard  hoot  you,  hisse  at  vou,  spit  at 
you,  yea  throw  dirt  even  in  your  teetii :  'tis  most 
gentleman-like  patience  to  endure  all  this,  and  to 
laugh  at  the  silly  animals.  But  if  the  rabble, 
with  a  full  throat,  crie  away  with  the  foole,  you 
were  worse  than  a  mad-man  to  tarry  by  it :  for  the 
gentleman  and  the  foole  should  never  sit  on  the 
stage  together. 


412  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

*t  Mary,  let  this  observation  go  hand  in  hand 
with  the  rest :  or  rather,  like  a  country-serving 
man,  some  five  yards  before  them.     Present  not 
your  selfe  on  the  stage  (especially  at  a  new  play) 
untill  the  quaking  prologue  hath  (by  rubbing)  got 
cullor  into  his  cheekes,  and  is  ready  to  give  the 
trumpets  their  cue  that  hees  upon  point  to  enter: 
for  then  it  is  time,  as  though  you  were  one  of  the 
properties,  or  that  you  dropt  of  the  hangings,  to 
creep  behind  the  arras,  with  your  tripos  or  three- 
legged  stoole  in  one  hand,  and  a  teston  mounted 
betweene  a  fore-finger  and  a  thumbe,  in  the  other ; 
for  if  you  should  bestow  your  person  upon  the 
vulgar,  when  the  belly  of  the  house  is  but  halfe 
full,  your  apparell  is  quite  eaten  up,  the  fashion 
lost,  and  the   proportion  of  your  body  in  more 
danger  to  be  devoured,  then  if  it  were  served  up 
in  the  Counter  amongst  the  Poultry:  avoid  that  as 
you  would  the  bastome.     It  shall  crowne  you  with 
rich  commendation,  to  laugh  alowd  in  the  middest 
of  the  most  serious  and  saddest  scene  of  the  ter- 
riblest  tragedy :    and  to  let   that  clapper  (your 
tongue)  be  tost  so  high  that  all  the  house  may  ring 
of  it :  your  lords  use  it ;  your  knights  are  apes  to 
the  lords,  and  do  so  too :  your  inne-a-court-man 
is  zany  to  the  knights,  and  (many  very  scurvily) 
comes  likewise  limping  after  it :  bee  thou  a  beagle 
to  them  all,  and  never  lin  snuffing  till  you  have 
scented  them :  for  by  talking  and  laughing  (like 
a  ploughman  in  a  morris)  you  heape  Pelion  upon 
Ossa,  glory  upon  glory :  as  first  all  the  eyes  in  the 
galleries  will  leave  walking  after  the  players,  and 
onely  follow  you :  the  simplest  dolt  in  the  house 
snatches  up  your  name,  and  when  he  meetes  you 
in  the  streetes,  or  that  you  fall  into  his  hands  in 
the  middle  of  a  watch,  his  word  shall  be  taken  for 


ADVERTISEMENT.  413 

you:  heele  cry,  Hees  such  a  gallant,  and  you  passe. 
Secondly  you  publish  your  temperance  to  the 
world,  in  that  you  seeme  not  to  resort  thither  to 
taste  vaine  pleasures  with  a  hungrie  appetite  ;  but 
onely  as  a  gentleman,  to  spend  a  foolish  houre  or 
two,  because  you  can^doe  nothing  else.  Thirdly 
you  mightily  disrelish  the  audience,  and  disgrace 
the  author :  marry,  you  take  up  (though  it  be  at 
the  worst  hand)  a  strong  opinion  of  your  owne 
judgement,  and  inforce  the  poet  to  take  pity  of 
your  weakenesse,  and  by  some  dedicated  sonuet  to 
bring  you  into  a  better  paradise,  onely  to  stop  your 
mouth. 

"  If  you  can  (either  for  love  or  money)  provide 
your  selfe  a  lodging  by  the  water  side :  for  above 
the  conveniencie  it  brings  to  shun  shoulder-clap- 
ping, and  to  ship  away  your  cockatrice  betimes  in 
the  morning,  it  addes  a  kind  of  state  unto  you,  to 
be  carried  from  thence  to  the  staires  of  your  play- 
house :  hate  a  sculler  (remember  that)  worse  then 
to  be  acquainted  with  one  ath'  scullery.  No,  your 
oares  are  your  onely  sea-crabs,  boord  them,  and 
take  heed  you  never  go  twice  together  with  one 
paire :  often  shifting  is  a  great  credit  to  gentle- 
men: and  that  dividing  of  your  fare  wil  make  the 
poore  watersnaks  be  ready  to  pul  you  in  peeces  to 
enjoy  your  custome.  No  matter  whither  upon 
landing  you  have  money  or  no;  you  may  swim  in 
twentie  of  their  boatcs  over  the  river  upon  ticket ; 
mary,  when  silver  comes  in,  remember  to  nay 
trebble  their  fare,  and  it  will  make  your  flounder- 
catchers  to  send  more  thankes  alter  you,  when  you 
doe  not  draw,  then  when  you  doe :  for  they  know, 
it  will  be  their  owne  another  daie. 

"  Before  the  play  begins,  fall  to  cardes ;  you  may 
win  or  loose  (as  fencers  doe  in  a  prize)  and  beate 


414  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

one  another  by  confederacie,  yet  share  the  money 
when  you  meete  at  supper:  notwithstanding,  to 
gul  the  raggamuffins  that  stand  a  loofe  gaping  at 
you,  throw  the  cards  (having  first  torne  four  or 
five  of  them)  round  about  the  stage,  just  upon  the 
third  sound,  as  though  you  had  lost:  it  skils  not  if 
the  four  knaves  ly  on  their  backs,  and  outface  the 
audience,  there's  none  such  fooles  as  dare  take 
exceptions  at  them,  because  ere  the  play  go  off, 
better  knaves  than  they,  will  fall  into  the  com- 
pany. 

"  Now,  Sir,  if  the  writer  be  a  fellow  that  hath 
either  epigram'd  you,  or  hath  had  a  flirt  at  your 
mistris,  or  hath  brought  either  your  feather,  or 
your  red  beard,  or  your  little  legs,  &c.  on  the 
stage,  you  shall  disgrace  him  worse  then  by  tossing 
him  in  a  blanket,  or  giving  him  the  bastinado  in 
a  taverne,  if  in  the  middle  of  his  play  (bee  it  pas- 
torall  or  comedy,  morall  or  tragedie)  you  rise  with 
a  skreud  and  discontented  face  from  your  stoole  to 
be  gone  :  no  matter  whether  the  scenes  be  good  or 
no ;  the  better  they  are,  the  worse  doe  you  distast 
them  :  and  beeing  on  your  feete,  sneake  not  away 
like  a  coward,  but  salute  all  your  gentle  acquaint- 
ance that  are  spred  either  on  the  rushes  or  on 
stooles  about  you,  and  draw  what  troope  you  can 
from  the  stage  after  you  :  the  mimicks  are  beholden 
to  you,  for  allowing  them  elbow  roome :  their  poet 
cries  perhaps,  a  pox  go  with  you,  but  care  not  you 
for  that ;  there's  no  musick  without  frets. 

"  Mary,  if  either  the  company,  or  indisposition 
of  the  weather  binde  you  to  sit  it  out,  my  counsell 
is  then  that  you  turne  plaine  ape  :  take  up  a  rush 
and  tickle  the  earnest  eares  of  your  fellow  gallants, 
to  make  other  fooles  fall  a  laughing :  mewe  at  the 
passionate  speeches,  blare  at  merrie,  finde  fault  with 


ADVERTISEMENT.  415 

the  musicke,whewe  at  the  children's  action, whistle 
at  the  songs;  and  above  all,  curse  the  sharers,  that 
whereas  the  same  day  you  had  bestowed  forty  shil- 
lings on  an  embroidered  felt  and  feather  (Scotch 
fashion)  for  your  mistres  in  the  court,  or  your 
punck  in  the  cittie,  within  two  houres  after,  you 
encounter  with  the  very  same  block  on  the  stage, 
when  the  haberdasher  swore  to  you  the  impression 
was  extant  but  that  morning 

"  To  conclude,  hoord  up  the  finest  play-scraps 
you  can  get,  upon  which  your  leane  wit  may  most 
savourly  feede,  for  want  of  other  stutfe,  when  the 
Arcadian  and  Euphuis'd  gentlewomen  have  their 
tongues  sharpened  to  set  upon  you :  that  qualitie 
(next  to  your  shittlecocke)  is  the  only  furniture  to 
a  courtier  that's  but  a  new  beginner,  and  is  but  in 
his  A  B  C  of  complement.  The  next  places  that 
are  fil'd  after  the  play-houses  bee  emptied,  are  (or 
ought  to  be)  tavernes :  into  a  taverne  then  let  us 
next  march,  where  the  braines  of  one  hogshead 
must  be  beaten  out  to  make  up  another."4 


4  The  following  pretty  picture  of  the  stage  is  given  in  Gay- 
ton's  Notes  on  Don  Quixote,   1654,  p.  27 1 : 

"  Men  come  not  to  study  at  a  play-house,  but  love  such 
expressions  and  passages,  which  with  ease  insinuate  themselves 
into  their  capacities.  Lingua,  that  learned  comedy  of  the  con- 
tention betwixt  the  five  senses  for  superiority,  is  not  to  be  pros- 
tituted to  the  common  stage,  but  is  only  proper  for  an  Academy; 
to  them  bring  Jack  Drum's  Entertainment,  Green's  Tu  Quoqut, 
the  Devil  of  Edmonton,  and  the  like  ;  or,  if  it  be  on  holy  dayes, 
when  saylers,  water-men,  shoo-makers,  butchers,  and  appren- 
tices, are  at  leisure,  then  it  is  good  policy  to  amaze  those  violent 
spirits  with  some  tearing  Tragedy  full  of  fights  and  skirmishes: 
as  the  Guelphs  and  Guiblins,  Greeks  and  Trojans,  or  the  three 
London  Apprentices;  which  commonly  ends  in  six  acts,  the 
spectators  frequently  mounting  the  stage,  and  making  a  more 
bloody  catastrophe  amongst  themselves,  than  the  players  did.  I 
have  known  upon  one  of  theseyMfiW*,  but  especially  at  SArove- 


416  MR.  STEEVENS'S 

I  should  have  attempted  on  the  present  occasion 
to  enumerate  all  other  pamphlets,  &c.  from  whence 
particulars  relative  to  the  conduct  of  our  early 
theatres  might  be  collected,  but  that  Dr.  Percy,  in 
his  first  volume  of  the  Reliques  of  Ancient  English 
Poetry,  (third  edit.  p.  128,  &c.)  has  extracted  such 
passages  from  them  as  tend  to  the  illustration  of 
this  subject ;  to  which  he  has  added  more  accurate 
remarks  than  my  experience  in  these  matters 
would  have  enabled  me  to  supply.     Steevens. 

tide,  where  the  players  have  been  appointed,  notwithstanding 
their  bils  to  the  contrary,  to  act  what  the  major  part  of  the 
company  had  a  mind  to ;  sometimes  Tamerlane,  sometimes 
Jugurth,  sometimes  The  Jew  of  Malta  ;  and  sometimes  parts  of 
all  these,  and  at  last  none  of  the  three  taking,  they  were  forc'd 
to  undresse  and  put  off  their  tragick  habits,  and  conclude  the 
day  with  the  Merry  Milk-maides.  And  unlesse  this  were  done, 
and  the  popular  humour  satisfied,  as  sometimes  it  so  fortun'd, 
that  the  players  were  refractory;  the  benches,  the  tiles,  the 
laths,  the  stones,  oranges,  apples,  nuts,  flew  about  most  libe- 
rally ;  and,  as  there  were  mechanicks  of  all  professions,  who 
fell  every  one  to  his  owne  trade,  and  dissolved  a  house  in  an 
instant,  and  made  a  ruine  of  a  stately  fabrick.  It  was  not  then 
the  most  mimicall  nor  fighting  man,  Fowler,  nor  Andrew  Cane, 
could  pacifie :  Prologues  nor  Epilogues  would  prevaile  ;  the 
devill  and  the  fool  were  quite  out  of  favour.  Nothing  but  noise 
and  tumult  fils  the  house,  untill  a  cogg  take  'urn,  and  then  to 
the  bawdy  houses  and  reforme  them ;  and  instantly  to  the  Bank's 
Side,  where  the  poor  bears  must  conclude  the  riot,  and  fight 
twenty  dogs  at  a  time  beside  the  butchers,  which  sometimes  fell 
into  the  service ;  this  perform'd,  and  the  horse  and  jack-an- 
apes  for  a  jigge,  they  had  sport  enough  that  day  for  nothing.'* 

Tod  i). 


PREFACE 


TO 


MR.  M.  MASON'S  COMMENTS,  &c 

1785. 


NOT  thoroughly  satisfied  with  any  of  the  former 
editions  of  Shakspeare,  even  that  of  Johnson,  I 
had  resolved  to  venture  upon  one  of  my  own,  and 
had  actually  collected  materials  for  the  purpose, 
when  that,5  which  is  the  subject  of  the  following 
Observations,  made  its  appearance;  in  which  I 
found  that  a  considerable  part  of  the  amendments 
and  explanations  I  had  intended  to  propose  were 
anticipated  by  the  labours  and  eccentrick  reading 
of  Steevens,  the  ingenious  researches  of  Malone, 
and  the  sagacity  of  Tyrwhitt. — I  will  fairly  con- 
fess that  I  was  somewhat  mortified  at  this  dis- 
covery, which  compelled  me  to  relinquish  a  fa- 
vourite pursuit,  from  whence  I  had  vainly  expected 
to  derive  some  degree  of  credit  in  the  literary 
world.  This,  however,  was  a  secondary  considera- 
tion; and  my  principal  purpose  will  be  answered 
to  my  wish,  if  the  Comments,  which  I  now  submit 
to  the  publick  shall,  in  any  other  hands,  contribute 
materially  to  a  more  complete  edition  of  our  inimi- 
table poet. 

If  we  may  judge  from  the  advertisement  prefixed 

*  Edit.  1778. 
VOL.  I.  K  C 


418       MR.  M.  MASON'S  PREFACE. 

to  his  Supplement,  Malone  seems  to  think  that  no 
other  edition  can  hereafter  be  wanted ;  as  in  speak- 
ing of  the  last,  he  says,  "  The  text  of  the  author 
seems  now  to  be  finally  settled,  the  great  abilities 
and  unwearied  researches  of  the  editor  having  left 
little  obscure  or  unexplained." 6 

Though  I  cannot  subscribe  to  this  opinion  of 
Malone,  with  respect  to  the  final  adjustment  of  the 
text,  I  shall  willingly  join  in  his  encomium  on  the 
editor,  who  deserves  the  applause  and  gratitude 
of  the  publick,  not  only  for  his  industry  and  abili- 
ties, but  also  for  the  zeal  with  which  he  has  prose- 
cuted the  object  he  had  in  view,  which  prompted 
him,  not  only  to  the  wearisome  task  of  collation, 
but  also  to  engage  in  a  peculiar  course  of  reading, 
neither  pleasing  nor  profitable  for  any  other  pur- 
pose. 

But  I  will  venture  to  assert,  that  his  merit  is 
more  conspicuous  in  the  comments  than  the  text ; 
in  the  regulation  of  which  he  seems  to  have  acted 
rather  from  caprice,  than  any  settled  principle ; 
admitting  alterations,  in  some  passages,  on  very 
insufficient  authority,  indeed,  whilst  in  others  he 
has  retained  the  antient  readings,  though  evidently 
corrupt,  in  preference  to  amendments  as  evidently 
just ;  and  it  frequently  happens,  that  after  point- 
ing out  to  us  the  true  reading,  he  adheres  to  that 
which  he  himself  has  proved  to  be  false.  Had  he 
regulated  the  text  in  every  place  according  to  his 
own  judgment,  Malone's  observation  would  have 
been  nearer  to  the  truth  j  but  as  it  now  stands,  the 

8  As  I  was  never  vain  enough  to  suppose  the  edit.  1778  was 
entitled  to  this  encomium,  I  can  find  no  difficulty  in  allowing 
that  it  has  been  properly  recalled  by  the  gentleman  who  bestowed 
it.  See  his  Preface ;  and  his  Letter  to  the  Reverend  Dr.  Farmer, 
p.  7  and  8.     Steevens. 


MR.  M.  MASON'S  PREFACE.       419 

last  edition  has  no  signal  advantage,  that  I  can 
perceive,  over  that  of  Johnson,  in  point  of  correct- 
ness. 

But  the  object  that  Steevens  had  most  at  heart, 
was  the  illustration  of  Shakspeare,  in  which  it  must 
be  owned  he  has  clearly  surpassed  all  the  former 
editors.  If  without  his  abilities,  application,  or 
reading,  I  have  happened  to  succeed  in  explaining 
some  passages,  which  he  misapprehended,  or  in 
suggesting  amendments  that  escaped  his  sagacitv, 
it  is  owing  merely  to  the  minute  attention  with 
which  I  have  studied  every  line  of  these  plays, 
whilst  the  other  commentators,  I  will  not  except 
even  Steevens  himself,  have  too  generally  confined 
their  observation  and  ingenuity  to  those  litigated 
passages,  which  have  been  handed  down  to  them 
by  former  editors,  as  requiring  cither  amendment 
or  explanation,  and  have  suffered  many  others  to 
pass  unheeded,  that  in  truth,  were  equally  errone- 
ous or  obscure.  It  may  possibly  be  thought  that 
I  have  gone  too  far  in  the  other  extreme,  in  point- 
ing out  trifling  mistakes  in  the  printing,  which 
every  reader  perceives  to  be  such,  and  amends  as 
he  reads ;  but  where  correctness  is  the  object,  no 
inaccuracy,  however  immaterial,  should  escape 
unnoticed. 


There  is  perhaps  no  species  of  publication 

whatever,  more  likely  to  produce  diversity  of  opi- 
nion than  verbal  criticisms  ;  for  as  there  is  no  cer- 
tain criterion  of  truth,  no  established  principle  by 
which  we  can  decide  whether  they  be  justly  round- 
ed or  not,  every  reader  is  left  to  his  own  imagina- 
tion, on  which  will  depend  his  censure  or  applause. 
I  have  not  therefore  the  vanity  to  hope  that  all 
these  observations  will  be  generally  approved  of; 
some  of  them,  I  confess,  are  not  thoroughly  satis- 

i:  i:  2 


420       MR.  M.  MASON'S  PREFACE. 

factory  even  to  myself,  and  are  hazarded,  rather 
than  relied  on  : — But  there  are  others  which  I  offer 
with  some  degree  of  confidence,  and  I  flatter  my- 
self that  they  will  meet,  upon  the  whole,  with  a 
favourable  reception  from  the  admirers  of  Shak- 
speare,  as  tending  to  elucidate  a  number  of  pas- 
sages which  have  hitherto  been  misprinted  or  mis- 
understood. 

In  forming  these  comments,  I  have  confined 
myself  solely  to  the  particular  edition  which  is  the 
object  of  them,  without  comparing  it  with  any 
other,  even  with  that  of  Johnson :  not  doubting 
but  the  editors  had  faithfully  stated  the  various 
readings  of  the  first  editions,  I  resolved  to  avoid 
the  labour  of  collating ;  but  had  I  been  inclined 
to  undertake  that  task,  it  would  not  have  been  in 
my  power,  as  few,  if  any,  of  the  ancient  copies  can 
be  had  in  the  country  where  I  reside. 

I  have  selected  from  the  Supplement,  Pericles, 
Prince  of  Tyre,  because  it  is  supposed  by  some  of 
the  commentators  to  have  been  the  work  of  Shak- 
speare,  and  is  at  least  as  faulty  as  any  of  the  rest. 
The  remainder  of  the  plays  which  Malone  has  pub- 
lished are  neither,  in  my  opinion,  the  production 
of  our  poet,  or  sufficiently  incorrect  to  require  any 
comment.     M.  Mason. 


MR.  REED'S 

ADVERTISEMENT, 

BEFORE    THE    THIRD    EDITION,    1785. 


I  HE  works  of  Shakspeare,  during  the  last  twenty 
years,  have  been  the  objects  of  publick  attention 
more  than  at  any  former  period.  In  that  time  the 
various  editions  of  his  performances  have  been 
examined,  his  obscurities  illuminated,  his  defects 
pointed  out,  and  his  beauties  displayed,  so  fully, 
so  accurately,  and  in  so  satisfactory  a  manner,  that 
it  might  reasonably  be  presumed  little  would  re- 
main to  be  done  by  either  new  editors  or  new  com- 
mentators: yet,  though  the  diligence  and  sagacity 
of  those  gentlemen  who  contributed  towards  the 
last  edition  of  this  author  may  seem  to  have  almost 
exhausted  the  subject,  the  same  train  of  enquiry 
has  brought  to  light  new  discoveries,  and  accident 
will  probably  continue  to  produce  further  illustra- 
tions, which  may  render  some  alterations  necessary 
in  every  succeeding  republication. 

Since  the  last  edition  of  this  work  in  1778,  the 
zeal  for  elucidating  Shakspeare,  which  appeared  in 
most  of  the  gentlemen  whose  names  are  affixed  to 
the  notes,  has  suffered  little  abatement.  The  same 
persevering  spirit  of  enquiry  has  continued  to  exert 
itself,  and  the  same  laborious  search  into  the  lite- 
rature, the  manners,  and  the  customs  of  the  times, 
which  was  formerly  so  successfully  employed,  has 


422   MR.  REED'S  ADVERTISEMENT. 

remained  undiminished.  By  these  aids  some  new 
information  has  been  obtained,  and  some  new 
materials  collected.  From  the  assistance  of  such 
writers,  even  Shakspeare  will  receive  no  discredit. 

When  the  very  great  and  various  talents  of  the 
last  editor,  particularly  for  this  work,  are  con- 
sidered, it  will  occasion  much  regret  to  find,  that 
having  superintended  two  editions  of  his  favourite 
author  through  the  press,  he  has  at  length  declined 
the  laborious  office,  and  committed  the  care  of  the 
present  edition  to  one  who  laments  with  the  rest 
of  the  world  the  secession  of  his  predecessor ; 
being  conscious,  as  well  of  his  own  inferiority,  as 
of  the  injury  the  publication  will  sustain  by  the 
change. 

As  some  alterations  have  been  made  in  the  pre- 
sent edition,  it  maybe  thought  necessary  to  point 
them  out.  These  are  of  two  kinds,  additions  and 
omissions.  The  additions  are  such  as  have  been 
supplied  by  the  last  editor,  and  the  principal  of 
the  living  commentators.  To  mention  these  as- 
sistances, is  sufficient  to  excite  expectation ;  but 
to  speak  any  thing  in  their  praise  will  be  superflu- 
ous to  those  who  are  acquainted  with  their  former 
labours.  Some  remarks  are  also  added  from  new 
commentators,  and  some  notices  extracted  from 
books  which  have  been  published  in  the  course  of 
a  few  years  past. 

Of  the  omissions,  the  most  important  are  some 
notes  which  have  been  demonstrated  to  be  ill 
founded,  and  some  which  were  supposed  to  add 
to  the  size  of  the  volumes  without  increasing  their 
value.  It  may  probably  have  happened  that  a  few 
are  rejected  which  ought  to  have  been  retained  ; 
and  in  that  case  the  present  editor,  who  has  been 
the  occasion  of  their  removal,  will  feel  some  con- 


MR.  REED'S  ADVERTISEMENT.  423 

cern  from  the  injustice  of  his  proceeding.  He  is, 
however,  inclined  to  believe,  that  what  he  has 
omitted  will  be  pardoned  by  the  reader ;  and  that 
the  liberty  which  he  has  taken  will  not  be  thought 
to  have  been  licentiouslv  indulged.  At  all  events, 
that  the  censure  may  fall  where  it  ought,  he  de- 
sires it  to  be  understood  that  no  person  is  answera- 
ble for  any  of  these  innovations  but  himself. 

It  has  been  observed  by  the  last  editor,  that  the 
multitude  of  instances  which  have  been  produced 
to  exemplify  particular  words,  and  explain  obsolete 
customs,  may,  when  the  point  is  once  known  to  be 
established,  be  diminished  by  any  future  editor, 
and,  in  conformity  to  this  opinion,  several  quota- 
tions, which  were  heretofore  properly  introduced, 
are  now  curtailed.  Were  an  apology  required  on 
this  occasion,  the  present  editor  might  shelter  him- 
self under  the  authority  of  Prior,  who  long  ago  has 
said, 

"  That  when  one's  proofs  are  aptly  chosen, 
*'  Four  are  as  valid  as  four  dozen." 

The  present  editor  thinks  it  unnecessary  to  say 
any  thing  of  his  own  share  in  the  work,  except 
that  he  undertook  it  in  consequence  of  an  applica- 
tion which  was  too  flattering  and  too  honourable 
to  him  to  decline.  He  mentions  this  only  to  have 
it  known  that  he  did  not  intrude  himself  into  the 
situation.  He  is  not  insensible,  that  the  task  would 
have  been  better  executed  by  many  other  gentle- 
men, and  particularly  by  some  whose  names  ap- 
pear to  the  notes,  fie  has  added  but  little  to  the 
bulk  of  the  volumes  from  his  own  observations, 
having,  upon  every  occasion,  rather  chosen  to  avoid 
a  note,  than  to  court  the  opportunity  of  inserting 
one.     The  liberty  he  has  taken  of  omitting  some 


424        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

remarks,  he  is  confident,  has  been  exercised  with- 
out prejudice  and  without  partiality;  and  there- 
fore, trusting  to  the  candour  and  indulgence  of  the 
publick,  will  forbear  to  detain  them  any  longer 
from  the  entertainment  they  may  receive  from  the 
greatest  poet  of  this  or  any  other  nation.     Reed. 

Nov.  10, 1785. 


MR.  MALONE'S 

PREFACE. 


IN  the  following  work,  the  labour  of  eight  years, 
I  have  endeavoured,  with  unceasing  solicitude,  to 
give  a  faithful  and  correct  edition  of  the  plays  and 
poems  of  Shakspeare.  Whatever  imperfection  or 
errors  therefore  may  be  found  in  it,  (and  what 
work  of  so  great  a  length  and  difficulty  was  ever 
free  from  error  or  imperfection  ?)  will,  I  trust,  be 
imputed  to  any  other  cause  than  want  of  zeal  for 
the  due  execution  of  the  task  which  I  ventured  to 
undertake. 

The  difficulties  to  be  encountered  by  an  editor 
of  the  works  of  Shakspeare,  have  been  so  frequently 
stated,  and  are  so  generally  acknowledged,  that  it 
may  seem  unnecessary  to  conciliate  the  publick 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        425 

favour  by  this  plea :  but  as  these  in  my  opinion 
have  in  some  particulars  been  over-rated,  and  in 
others  not  sufficiently  insisted  on,  and  as  the  true 
state  of  the  ancient  copies  of  this  poet's  writings 
has  never  been  laid  before  the  publick,  I  shall  con- 
sider the  subject  as  if  it  had  not  been  already  dis- 
cussed by  preceding  editors. 

In  the  year  1 756  Dr.  Johnson  published  the  fol- 
lowing excellent  scheme  of  a  new  edition  of  Shak- 
speare's  dramatick  pieces,  which  he  completed  in 
1765: 

"  When  the  works  of  Shakspeare  are,  after  so 
many  editions,  again  offered  to  the  publick,  it  will 
doubtless  be  enquired,  why  Shakspeare  stands  in 
more  need  of  critical  assistance  than  any  other  of 
the  English  writers,  and  what  are  the  deficiencies 
of  the  late  attempts,  which  another  editor  may 
hope  to  supply. 

"  The  business  of  him  that  republishes  an  an- 
cient book  is,  to  correct  what  is  corrupt,  and  to 
explain  what  is  obscure.  To  have  a  text  corrupt 
in  many  places,  and  in  many  doubtful,  is,  among 
the  authors  that  have  written  since  the  use  of  types, 
almost  peculiar  to  Shakspeare.  Most  writers,  by 
publishing  their  own  works,  prevent  all  various 
readings,  and  preclude  all  conjectural  criticism. 
Books  indeed  are  sometimes  published  after  the 
death  of  him  who  produced  them,  but  they  are 
better  secured  from  corruptions  than  these  unfor- 
tunate compositions.  They  subsist  in  a  single 
copy,  written  or  revised  by  the  author;  and  the 
faults  of  the  printed  volume  can  be  only  faults  of 
one  descent. 

"  But  of  the  works  of  Shakspeare  the  condition 
has  been  far  different :  he  sold  them,  not  to  be 
printed,  but  to  be  played.    They  were  immediately 


426        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

copied  for  the  actors,  and  multiplied  by  transcript 
after  transcript,  vitiated  by  the  blunders  of  the 
penman,  or  changed  by  the  affectation  of  the 
player ;  perhaps  enlarged  to  introduce  a  jest,  or 
mutilated  to  shorten  the  representation;  and  print- 
ed at  last  without  the  concurrence  of  the  author, 
without  the  consent  of  the  proprietor,  from  com- 
pilations made  by  chance  or  by  stealth  out  of  the 
separate  parts  written  for  the  theatre:  and  thus 
thrust  into  the  world  surreptitiously  and  hastily, 
they  suffered  another  depravation  from  the  igno- 
rance and  negligence  of  the  printers,  as  every  man 
who  knows  the  state  of  the  press  in  that  age  will 
readily  conceive. 

"  It  is  not  easy  for  invention  to  bring  together 
so  many  causes  concurring  to  vitiate  a  text.  No 
other  author  ever  gave  up  his  works  to  fortune 
and  time  with  so  little  care;  no  books  could  be 
left  in  hands  so  likely  to  injure  them,  as  plays  fre- 
quently acted,  yet  continued  in  manuscript:  no 
other  transcribers  wTere  likely  to  be  so  little  qua- 
lified for  their  task,  as  those  who  copied  for  the 
stage,  at  a  time  when  the  lower  ranks  of  the  people 
were  universally  illiterate :  no  other  editions  were 
made  from  fragments  so  minutely  broken,  and  so 
fortuitously  re-united ;  and  in  no  other  age  was 
the  art  of  printing  in  such  unskilful  hands. 

"  With  the  causes  of  corruption  that  make  the 
revisal  of  Shakspeare's  dramatick  pieces  necessary, 
may  be  enumerated  the  causes  of  obscurity,  which 
may  be  partly  imputed  to  his  age,  and  partly  to 
himself. 

"  When  a  winter  outlives  his  contemporaries, 
and  remains  almost  the  only  unforgotten  name  of 
a  distant  time,  he  is  necessarily  obscure.  Every  age 
has  its  modes  of  speech,  and  its  cast  of  thought ; 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         427 

which,  though  easily  explained  when  there  are 
many  books  to  be  compared  with  each  other,  be- 
come  sometimes  unintelligible,  and  always  difficult, 
when  there  are  no  parallel  passages  that  may  con- 
duce to  their  illustration.  Shakspeare  is  the  first 
considerable  author  of  sublime  or  familiar  dialogue 
in  our  language.  Of  the  books  which  he  read,  and 
from  which  he  formed  his  style,  some  perhaps  have 
perished,  and  the  rest  are  neglected.  His  imita- 
tions are  therefore  unnoted,  his  allusions  are  un- 
discovered, and  many  beauties,  both  of  pleasantry 
and  greatness,  are  lost  with  the  objects  to  which 
they  were  united,  as  the  figures  vanish  when  the 
canvas  has  decayed. 

"  It  is  the  great  excellence  of  Shakspeare,  that 
he  drew  his  scenes  from  nature,  and  from  life. 
He  copied  the  manners  of  the  world  then  passing 
before  him,  and  has  more  allusions  than  other 
poets  to  the  traditions  and  superstitions  of  the 
vulgar;  which  must  therefore  be  traced  before  he 
can  be  understood. 

"  He  wrote  at  a  time  when  our  poetical  language 
was  yet  unformed,  when  the  meaning  of  our  phrases 
was  yet  in  fluctuation,  when  words  were  adopted 
at  pleasure  from  the  neighbouring  languages,  and 
while  the  Saxon  was  still  visibly  mingled  in  our 
diction.  The  reader  is  therefore  embarrassed  at 
once  with  dead  and  with  foreign  languages,  with 
obsoleteness  and  innovation.  In  that  age,  as  in  all 
others,  fashion  produced  phraseology,  which  suc- 
ceeding fashion  swept  away  before  its  meaning  was 
generally  known,  or  sufficiently  authorized  :  and 
in  that  age,  above  all  others,  experiments  were 
made  upon  our  language,  which  distorted  its  com- 
binations, and  disturbed  its  uniformity. 

"  If  Shakspeare   has  difficulties   above  other 


428        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

•writers,  it  is  to  be  imputed  to  the  nature  of  his 
work,  which  required  the  use  of  the  common  col- 
loquial language,  and  consequently  admitted  many 
phrases  allusive,  elliptical,  and  proverbial,  such  as 
we  speak  and  hear  every  hour  without  observing 
them  ;  and  of  which,  being  now  familiar,  we  do 
not  suspect  that  they  can  ever  grow  uncouth, 
or  that,  being  now  obvious,  they  can  ever  seem 
remote. 

"  These  are  the  principal  causes  of  the  obscurity 
of  Shakspeare ;  to  which  may  be  added  that  full- 
ness of  idea,  which  might  sometimes  load  his  words 
with  more  sentiment  than  they  could  conveniently 
convey,  and  that  rapidity  of  imagination  which 
might  hurry  him  to  a  second  thought  before  he  had 
fully  explained  the  first.  But  my  opinion  is,  that 
very  few  of  his  lines  were  difficult  to  his  audience, 
and  that  he  used  such  expressions  as  were  then 
common,  though  the  paucity  of  contemporary 
writers  makes  them  now  seem  peculiar. 

"  Authors  are  often  praised  for  improvement,  or 
blamed  for  innovation,  with  very  little  justice,  by 
those  who  read  few  other  books  of  the  same  age. 
Addison  himself  has  been  so  unsuccessful  in  enu- 
merating the  words  with  which  Milton  has  enriched 
our  language,  as  perhaps  not  to  have  named  one  of 
which  Milton  was  the  author :  and  Bentley  has  yet 
more  unhappily  praised  him  as  the  introducer  of 
those  elisions  into  English  poetry,  which  had  been 
used  from  the  first  essays  of  versification  among 
us,  and  which  Milton  was  indeed  the  last  that 
practised. 

"  Another  impediment,  not  the  least  vexatious 
to  the  commentator,  is  the  exactness  with  which 
Shakspeare  followed  his  author.  Instead  of  di- 
lating his  thoughts  into  generalities,  and  expressing 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        429 

incidents  with  poetical  latitude,  he  often  combines 
circumstances  unnecessary  to  his  main  design,  only 
because  he  happened  to  find  them  together.  Such 
passages  can  be  illustrated  only  by  him  who  has 
read  the  same  story  in  the  very  book  which  Shak- 
speare  consulted. 

"  He  that  undertakes  an  edition  of  Shakspeare, 
has  all  these  difficulties  to  encounter,  and  all  these 
obstructions  to  remove. 

"  The  corruptions  of  the  text  will  be  corrected 
by  a  careful  collation  of  the  oldest  copies,  by  which 
it  is  hoped  that  many  restorations  may  yet  be 
made ;  at  least  it  will  be  necessary  to  collect  and 
note  the  variations  as  materials  for  future  criticks, 
for  it  very  often  happens  that  a  wrong  reading  has 
affinity  to  the  right. 

"  In  this  part  all  the  present  editions  are  appa- 
rently and  intentionally  defective.  The  criticks 
did  not  so  much  as  wish  to  facilitate  the  labour  of 
those  that  followed  them.  The  same  books  are 
still  to  be  compared ;  the  work  that  has  been  done, 
is  to  be  done  again,  and  no  single  edition  will  sup- 
ply the  reader  with  a  text  on  which  he  can  rely  as 
the  best  copy  of  the  works  of  Shakspeare. 

"  The  edition  now  proposed  will  at  least  have 
this  advantage  over  others.  It  will  exhibit  all  the 
observable  varieties  of  all  the  copies  that  can  he 
found;  that,  if  the  reader  is  not  satisfied  with  the 
editor's  determination,  he  may  have  the  means  of 
choosing  better  for  himself. 

"  Where  all  the  books  are  evidently  vitiated, 
and  collation  can  give  no  assistance,  then  begins 
the  task  of  critical  sagacity:  and  some  changes 
may  well  be  admitted  in  a  text  never  settled  by 
the  author,  and  so  long  exposed  to  caprice  and 
ignorance.     But  nothing  shall  be  imposed,  as  in 


430        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

the  Oxford  edition,  without  notice  of  the  altera- 
tion ;  nor  shall  conjecture  be  wantonly  or  unneces- 
sarily indulged. 

"  It  has  been  long  found,  that  very  specious 
emendations  do,  not  equally  strike  all  minds  with 
conviction,  nor  even  the  same  mind  at  different 
times ;  and  therefore,  though  perhaps  many  altera- 
tions may  be  proposed  as  eligible,  very  few  will  be 
obtruded  as  certain.  In  a  language  so  ungram- 
matical  as  the  English,  and  so  licentious  as  that  of 
Shakspeare,  emendatory  criticism  is  always  hazard- 
ous ;  nor  can  it  be  allowed  to  any  man  who  is  not 
particularly  versed  in  the  writings  of  that  age,  and 
particularly  studious  of  his  author's  diction.  There 
is  danger  lest  peculiarities  should  be  mistaken  for 
corruptions,  and  passages  rejected  as  unintelligible, 
which  a  narrow  mind  happens  not  to  understand. 

"  All  the  former  criticks  have  been  so  much 
employed  on  the  correction  of  the  text,  that  they 
have  not  sufficiently  attended  to  the  elucidation  of 
passages  obscured  by  accident  or  time.   The  editor 
will  endeavour  to  read  the  books  which  the  au- 
thor read,  to  trace  his  knowledge  to  its  source,  and 
compare  his  copies  with  the  originals.     If  in  this 
part  of  his  design  he  hopes  to  attain  any  degree 
of  superiority  to  his  predecessors,  it  must  be  con- 
sidered, that  he  has  the  advantage  of  their  labours ; 
that  part  of  the  work  being  already  done,  more 
care  is  naturally  bestowed  on  the  other  part ;  and 
that,  to  declare  the  truth,  Mr.  Rowe  and  Mr.  Pope 
were  very  ignorant  of  the  ancient  English  litera- 
ture ;  Dr.  Warburton  was  detained  by  more  im- 
portant studies ;   and  Mr.  Theobald,  if  fame  be 
just  to  his  memory,  considered  learning  only  as  an 
instrument  of  gain,  and  made  no  further  inquiry 
after  his  author's  meaning,  when  once  he  had 


MR.  MALOXE'S  PREFACE.        431 

notes  sufficient  to  embellish  his  page  with  the  ex- 
pected decorations. 

"  With  regard  to  obsolete  or  peculiar  diction, 
the  editor  may  perhaps  claim  some  degree  of  con- 
fidence, having  had  more  motives  to  consider  the 
whole  extent  of  our  language  than  any  other  man 
from  its  first  formation.  He  hopes,  that,  by  com- 
paring the  works  of  Shakspeare  with  those  of 
writers  who  lived  at  the  same  time,  immediately 
preceded,  or  immediately  followed  him,  he  shall 
be  able  to  ascertain  his  ambiguities,  disentangle 
his  intricacies,  and  recover  the  meaning  of  words 
now  lost  in  the  darkness  of  antiquity. 

"  When  therefore  any  obscurity  arises  from  an 
allusion  to  some  other  book,  the  passage  will  be 
quoted.  When  the  diction  is  entangled,  it  will  be 
cleared  by  a  paraphrase  or  interpretation.  When 
the  sense  is  broken  by  the  suppression  of  part  of 
the  sentiment  in  pleasantry  or  passion,  the  con- 
nection will  be  supplied.  When  any  forgotten 
custom  is  hinted,  care  will  be  taken  to  retrieve 
and  explain  it.  The  meaning  assigned  to  doubt- 
ful words  will  be  supported  by  the  authorities  of 
other  writers,  or  by  parallel  passages  of  Shakspeare 
himself. 

"  The  observation  of  faults  and  beauties  is  one 
of  the  duties  of  an  annotator,  which  some  of  Shak- 
speare's  editors  have  attempted,  and  some  have 
neglected.  For  this  part  of  his  task,  and  for  this 
only,  was  Mr.  Pope  eminently  and  indisputably 
qualified :  nor  has  l>r.  Warburton  followed  him 
with  less  diligence  or  less  success.  Hut  I  never 
observed  that  mankind  was  much  delighted  or 
improved  by  their  asterisks,  commas,  or  double 
commas;  of  which  the  only  effect  is,  that  they 
preclude  the  pleasure  of  judging  for  ourselves; 


432        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

teach  the  young  and  ignorant  to  decide  without 

f>rinciples ;  defeat  curiosity  and  discernment  by 
eaving  them  less  to  discover ;  and,  at  last,  show 
the  opinion  of  the  critick,  without  the  reasons  on 
which  it  was  founded,  and  without  affording  any 
light  by  which  it  may  be  examined. 

"  The  editor,  though  he  may  less  delight  his 
own  vanity,  will  probably  please  his  reader  more, 
by  supposing  him  equally  able  with  himself  to  judge 
of  beauties  and  faults,  which  require  no  previous 
acquisition  of  remote  knowledge.  A  description  of 
the  obvious  scenes  of  nature,  a  representation  of 
general  life,  a  sentiment  of  reflection  or  experience, 
a  deduction  of  conclusive  argument,  a  forcible 
eruption  of  effervescent  passion,  are  to  be  con- 
sidered as  proportionate  to  common  apprehension, 
unassisted  by  critical  officiousness ;  since  to  con- 
ceive them,  nothing  more  is  requisite  than  ac- 
quaintance with  the  general  state  of  the  world, 
and  those  faculties  which  he  must  always  bring 
with  him  who  would  read  Shakspeare. 

"  But  when  the  beauty  arises  from  some  adapta- 
tion of  the  sentiment  to  customs  worn  out  of  use, 
to  opinions  not  universally  prevalent,  or  to  any 
accidental  or  minute  particularity,  which  cannot 
be  supplied  by  common  understanding,  or  common 
observation,  it  is  the  duty  of  a  commentator  to  lend 
his  assistance. 

"  The  notice  of  beauties  and  faults  thus  limited 
will  make  no  distinct  part  of  the  design,  being  re- 
ducible to  the  explanation  of  obscure  passages. 

'*  The  editor  does  not  however  intend  to  preclude 
himself  from  the  comparison  of  Shakspeare's  sen- 
timents or  expression  with  those  of  ancient  or 
modern  authors,  or  from  the  display  of  any  beauty 
not  obvious  to  the  students  of  poetry  j  for  as  he 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        «S 

hopes  to  leave  his  author  better  understood,  he 
wishes  likewise  to  procure  him  more  rational 
approbation. 

"  The  former  editors  have  affected  to  slight  their 
predecessors  :  but  in  this  edition  all  that  is  valua- 
ble will  be  adopted  from  every  commentator,  that 
posterity  may  consider  it  as  including  all  the  rest, 
and  exhibit  whatever  is  hitherto  known  of  the 
great  father  of  the  English  drama." 

Though  Dr.  Johnson  has  here  pointed  out  with 
his  usual  perspicuity  and  vigour,  the  true  course  to 
be  taken  by  an  editor  of  Shakspeare,  some  of  the 
positions  which  he  has  laid  down  may  be  contro- 
verted, and  some  are  indubitably  not  true.  It  is 
not  true  that  the  plays  of  this  author  were  more 
incorrectly  printed  than  those  of  any  of  his  con- 
temporaries :  for  in  the  plays  of  Marlowe,  Marston, 
Fletcher,  Massinger,  and  others,  as  many  errors 
may  be  found.  It  is  not  true  that  the  art  of 
printing  was  in  no  other  age  in  so  unskilful  hands. 
Nor  is  it  true,  in  the  latitude  in  which  it  is  stated, 
that  "  these  plays  were  printed  from  compilations 
made  by  chance  or  by  stealth  out  of  the  separate 
parts  written  for  the  theatre :"  two  only  of  all  his 
dramas,  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  and  King 
Henry  V.  appear  to  have  been  thus  thrust  into  the 
world,  and  of  the  former  it  is  yet  a  doubt  whether 
it  is  a  first  sketch  or  an  imperfect  copy.  I  do  not 
believe  that  words  were  then  adopted  at  pleasure 
from  the  neighbouring  languages,  or  that  an  anti- 
quated diction  was  then  employed  by  any  poet  but 
Spenser.  That  the  obscurities  of  our  author,  to 
whatever  cause  they  may  be  referred,  do  not  arise 
from  the  paucity  of  contemporary  writers,  the 
present  edition  may  furnish  indisputable  evidence. 

VOL,   T.  P  F 


434        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

And  lastly,  if  it  be  true,  that  "  very  few  of  Shak- 
speare's  lines  were  difficult  to  his  audience,  and 
that  he  used  such  expressions  as  were  then  com- 
mon," (a  position  of  which  I  have  not  the  smallest 
doubt,)  it  cannot  be  true,  that  "  his  reader  is  em- 
barrassed at  once  with  dead  and  with  foreign  lan- 
guages, with  obsoleteness  and  innovation." 

When  Mr.  Pope  first  undertook  the  task  of  re- 
vising these  plays,  every  anomaly  of  language,  and 
every  expression  that  was  not  understood  at  that 
time,  were  considered  as  errors  or  corruptions,  and 
the  text  was  altered,  or  amended,  as  it  was  called, 
at  pleasure.  The  principal  writers  of  the  early 
part  of  this  century  seem  never  to  have  looked  be- 
hind them,  and  to  have  considered  their  own  era 
and  their  own  phraseology  as  the  standard  of  per- 
fection: hence,  from  the  time  of  Pope's  edition, 
for  above  twenty  years,  to  alter  Shakspeare's  text 
and  to  restore  it,  were  considered  as  synonymous 
terms.  During  the  last  thirty  years  our  principal 
employment  has  been  to  restore,  in  the  true  sense 
of  the  word  5  to  eject  the  arbitrary  and  capricious 
innovations  made  by  our  predecessors  from  igno- 
rance of  the  phraseology  and  customs  of  the  age 
in  which  Shakspeare  lived. 

As  on  the  one  hand  our  poet's  text  has  been 
described  as  more  corrupt  than  it  really  is,  so  on 
the  other,  the  labour  required  to  investigate  fu- 
gitive allusions,  to  explain  and  justify  obsolete 
phraseology  by  parallel  passages  from  contemporary 
authors,  and  to  form  a  genuine  text  by  a  faithful 
collation  of  the  original  copies,  has  not  perhaps 
had  that  notice  to  which  it  is  entitled ;  for  un- 
doubtedly it  is  a  laborious  and  a  difficult  task :  and 
the  due  execution  of  this  it  is,  which  can  alone 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        435 

entitle  an  editor  of  Shakspeare  to  the  favour  of  the 
publick. 

I  have  said  that  the  comparative  value  of  the 
various  ancient  copies  of  Shakspeare's  plays  has 
never  been  precisely  ascertained.  To  prove  this, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  go  into  a  long  and  minute 
discussion,  for  which,  however,  no  apology  is  ne- 
cessary :  for  though  to  explain  and  illustrate  the 
writings  of  our  poet  is  a  principal  duty  of  his 
editor,  to  ascertain  his  genuine  text,  to  fix  what  is 
to  be  explained,  is  his  first  and  immediate  object : 
and  till  it  be  established  which  of  the  ancient 
copies  is  entitled  to  preference,  we  have  no  cri- 
terion by  which  the  text  can  be  ascertained. 

Fifteen  of  Shakspeare's  plays  were  printed  in 
quarto  antecedent  to  the  first  complete  collection 
of  his  works,  which  was  published  by  his  fellow- 
comedians  in  1 623.  These  plays  are,  A  Midsum- 
mer-Night's Dream,  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  Hamlet,  The  Two  Parts  of  King 
Henry  IV.  King  Ricluird  II.  King  Richard  III. 
The  Merchant  of  Venice,  King  Henry  V.  Much 
Ado  about  Nothing,  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor, 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  King  Lear,  and  Othello. 

The  players,  when  they  mention  these  copies, 
represent  them  all  as  mutilated  and  imperfect ;  but 
this  was  merely  thrown  out  to  give  an  additional 
value  to  their  own  edition,  and  is  not  strictly  true 
of  any  but  two  of  the  whole  number ;  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor,  and  King  Henry  V.— With  re- 
spect to  the  other  thirteen  copies,  though  undoubt- 
edly they  were  all  surreptitious,  that  is,  stolen  from 
the  playhouse,  and  printed  without  the  consent  of 
the  author  or  the  proprietors,  they  in  general  are 
preferable  to  the  exhibition  of  the  same  plays  in  the 

r  f  2 


436        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

folio;  for  this  plain  reason,  because,  instead  of 
printing  these  plays  from  a  manuscript,  the  editors 
of  the  folio,  to  save  labour,  or  from  some  other 
motive,  printed  the  greater  part  of  them  from  the 
very  copies  which  they  represented  as  maimed  and 
imperfect,  and  frequently  from  a  late,  instead  of 
the  earliest,  edition ;  in  some  instances  with  addi- 
tions and  alterations  of  their  own.  Thus  therefore 
the  first  folio,  as  far  as  respects  the  plays  above 
enumerated,  labours  under  the  disadvantage  of 
being  at  least  a  second,  and  in  some  cases  a  third, 
edition  of  these  quartos.  I  do  not,  however,  mean 
to  say,  that  many  valuable  corrections  of  passages 
undoubtedly  corrupt  in  the  quartos  are  not  found 
in  the  folio  copy ;  or  that  a  single  line  of  these 
plays  should  be  printed  by  a  careful  editor  without 
a  minute  examination,  and  collation  of  both  copies; 
but  those  quartos  were  in  general  the  basis  on 
which  the  folio  editors  built,  and  are  entitled  to 
our  particular  attention  and  examination  as  first 
editions. 

It  is  well  known  to  those  who  are  conversant  with 
the  business  of  the  press,  that,  (unless  when  the 
author  corrects  and  revises  his  own  works,)  as  edi- 
tions of  books  are  multiplied,  their  errors  are  multi- 
plied also;  and  that  consequently  every  such  edition 
is  more  or  less  correct,  as  it  approaches  nearer  to  or 
is  more  distant  from  the  first.  A  few  instances  of 
the  gradual  progress  of  corruption  will  fully  evince 
the  truth  of  this  assertion. 

In  the  original  copy  of  King  Richard  II.  4to. 
1597,  Act  II.  sc.  ii.  are  these  lines : 

**  You  promis'd,  when  you  parted  with  the  king, 
«'  To  lay  aside  life-harming  heaviness.'* 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         437 

In  a  subsequent  quarto,  printed  in  1608,  instead 
of  life-harming  we  find  HALF-harming ;  which 
being  perceived  by  the  editor  of  the  folio  to  be 
nonsense,  he  substituted,  instead  of  it, — self- 
harming  heaviness. 

In  the  original  copy  of  King  Henry  IV.  P.  I. 
printed  in  1598,  Act  IV.  sc.  iv.  we  find — 

'*  And  what  with  Owen  Glendower's  absence  thence, 
"  (Who  with  them  was  a  rated  sinew  too,)"  &c. 

In  the  fourth  quarto  printed  in  1608,  the  article 
being  omitted  by  the  negligence  of  the  compositor, 
and  the  line  printed  thus, — 

"  Who  with  them  was  rated  sinew  too,*' — 

the  editor  of  the  next  quarto,  (which  was  copied 
by  the  folio,)  instead  of  examining  the  first  edition, 
amended  the  error  (leaving  the  metre  still  imper- 
fect) by  reading — 

*'  Who  with  them  was  rated  Jirmly  too." 

So,  in  the  same  play,  Act  I.  sc.  iii.  instead  of  the 
reading  of  the  earliest  copy — 

"  Why  what  a  candy  deal  of  courtesy — " 

caudy  being  printed  in  the  first  folio  instead  of 
candy,  by  the  accidental  inversion  of  the  letter  n, 
the  editor  of  the  second  folio  corrected  the  error 
by  substituting  gaudy. 

So,  in  the  same  play,  Act  III.  sc.  i.  instead  of 
the  reading  of  the  earliest  impression, 


4S8         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

"  The  frame  and  huge  foundation  of  the  earth — " 

in  the  second  and  the  subsequent  quartos,  the  line 
by  the  negligence  of  the  compositor  was  exhibited 
without  the  word  huge : 

"  The  frame  and  foundation  of  the  earth — " 

and  the  editor  of  the  folio,  finding  the  metre  im- 
perfect, supplied  it  by  reading, 

"  The  frame  and  the  foundation  of  the  earth." 

Another  line  in  Act  V.  sc.  ult.  is  thus  exhibited 
in  the  quarto,  1598: 

"  But  that  the  earthy  and  cold  hand  of  death — " 

Earth  being  printed  instead  of  earthy,  in  the 
next  and  the  subsequent  quarto  copies,  the  editor 
of  the  folio  amended  the  line  thus : 

"  But  that  the  earth  and  the  cold  hand  of  death — ." 

Again,  in  the  preceding  scene,  we  find  in  the 
first  copy, 

"  I  was  not  born  a  yielder,  thou  proud  Scot — ." 

instead  of  which,  in  the  fifth  quarto,  1613,  we 
have — 

'*  I  was  not  born  to  yield,  thou  proud  Scot." 

This  being  the  copy  that  was  used  by  the  editor  of 
the  folio,  instead  of  examining  the  most  ancient 
impression,  he  corrected  the  error  according  to  his 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        43* 

own  fancy,  and  probably  while  the  work  was  pass- 
ing through  the  press,  by  reading — 

"  I  was  not  born  to  yield,  thou  haughty  Scot." 

In  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Juliet  says  to  her  Nurse, 

"  In  faith,  I  am  sorry  that  thou  art  not  well.*' 

and  this  line  in  the  first  folio  being  corruptly  ex- 
hibited— 

"  In  faith,  I  am  sorry  that  thou  art  so  well." 

the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  to  obtain  some  sense, 
printed— 

"  In  faith,  I  am  sorry  that  thou  art  so  ill." 

In  the  quarto  copy  of  the  same  play,  published 
in  1599,  we  find — 

O  happy  dagger, 


"  This  is  thy  sheath;  there  rust,  and  let  me  die." 

In  the  next  quarto,  1609,  the  last  line  is  thus  re- 
presented : 

"  Tm  is  thy  sheath,"  &c. 

The  editor  of  the  folio,  seeing  that  this  was 
manifestly  wrong,  absurdly  corrected  the  error 
thus: 

"  Tis  in  thy  sheath ;  there  rust,  and  let  me  die. " 

Again,  in  the  same  play,  quarto,  1599,  mishatfd 
being  corruptly  printed  tor  misbc/iav'dj — 

**  But  like  a  mithavd  and  sullen  weoch— " 


440        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

the  editor  of  the  first  folio,  to  obtain  something  like 
sense,  reads — 

"  But  like  a  mishap'd  and  sullen  wench — ." 

and  instead  of  this,  the  editor  of  the  second  folio, 
for  the  sake  of  metre,  gives  us — 

"  But  like  a  mishap'd  and  a  sullen  wench — ." 

Again,  in  the  first  scene  of  King  Richard  III, 
quarto,  1597,  we  find  this  line  : 

"  That  tempers  him  to  this  extremity." 

In  the  next  quarto,  and  all  subsequent,  tempts 
is  corruptly  printed  instead  of  tempers.  The  line 
then  wanting  a  syllable,  the  editor  of  the  folio 
printed  it  thus : 

"  That  tempts  him  to  this  harsh  extremity." 

Not  to  weary  my  reader,  I  shall  add  but  two 
more  instances,  from  Romeo  and  Juliet: 

"  Away  to  heaven,  respective  lenity, 

"  And  fire-ey  'd  fury  be  my  conduct  now  !" 

says  Romeo,  when  provoked  by  the  appearance  of 
his  rival.  Instead  of  this,  which  is  the  reading  of 
the  quarto  1597,  the  line,  in  the  quarto,  1599,  is 
thus  corruptly  exhibited : 

"  And  fire  end  fury  be  my  conduct  now  !" 

In  the  subsequent  quarto  copy  and  was  substitut- 
ed for  end;  and  accordingly  in  the  folio  the  poet's 
fine  imagery  is  entirely  lost,  and  Romeo  exclaims, 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        441 

"  And  fire  and  fury  be  my  conduct  now !" 

The  other  instance  in  the  same  play  is  not  less 
remarkable.  In  the  quarto,  1599,  the  Friar,  ad- 
dressing Romeo,  is  made  to  say, 

"  Thou  puts  up  thy  fortune,  and  thy  love." 

The  editor  of  the  folio  perceiving  here  a  gross 
corruption,  substituted  these  words : 

"  Thou  puttest  up  thy  fortune,  and  thy  love ;" 

not  perceiving  that  up  was  a  misprint  for  upon, 
and  puts  for  pouts,  (which  according  to  the  ancient 
mode  was  written  instead  of  powt*st,)  as  he  would 
have  found  by  looking  into  another  copy  without 
a  date,  and  as  he  might  have  conjectured  from  the 
corresponding  line  in  the  original  play  printed  in 
1597,  nad  he  ever  examined  it: 

"  Thoufroum'st  upon  thy  fate,  that  smiles  on  thee." 

So  little  known  indeed  was  the  value  of  the  early 
impressions  of  books,  (not  revised  or  corrected  by 
their  authors,)  that  King  Charles  the  First,  though 
a  great  admirer  of  our  poet,  was  contented  with 
the  second  folio  edition  of  his  plays,  unconscious 
of  the  numerous  misrepresentations  and  interpo- 
lations by  which  every  page  of  that  copy  is  dis- 
figured ;  and  in  a  volume  of  the  quarto  plays  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  which  formerly  belonged 
to  that  king,  and  is  now  in  my  collection,  1  did  not 
find  a  single  first  impression.  In  like  manner,  Sir 
William  D'Avenant,  when  he  made  his  alteration 
of  the  play  of  Macbeth,  appears  to  have  used  the 
third  folio  printed  in  16b4." 

•  In  that  copy  anoint  being  corruptly  printed  instead  of  aroint, 
M  Anoint  thee,  witch,  the  rump-fed  rouyon  cries." 
the  error  was  implicitly  adopted  by  D'Avenant. 


442        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

The  various  readings  found  in  the  different  im- 
pressions of  the  quarto  copies  are  frequently  men- 
tioned by  the  late  editors :  it  is  obvious  from  what 
has  been  already  stated,  that  the  first  edition  of 
each  play  is  alone  of  any  authority,9  and  accord- 
ingly to  no  other  have  I  paid  any  attention.  All 
the  variations  in  the  subsequent  quartos  were  made 
by  accident  or  caprice.  Where,  however,  there 
are  two  editions  printed  in  the  same  year,  or  an 
undated  copy,  it  is  necessary  to  examine  each  of 
them,  because  which  of  them  was  first,  can  not 
be  ascertained;  and  being  each  printed  from  a 
manuscript,  they  carry  with  them  a  degree  of 
authority  to  which  a  re-impression  cannot  be  en- 
titled. Of  the  tragedy  of  King  Lear  there  are  no 
less  than  three  copies,  varying  from  each  other, 
printed  for  the  same  bookseller,  and  in  the  same 
year. 

Of  all  the  plays  of  which  there  are  no  quarto 
copies  extant,  the  first  folio,  printed  in  1623,  is 
the  only  authentick  edition. 

An  opinion  has  been  entertained  by  some  that 
the  second  impression  of  that  book,  published  in 
1632,  has  a  similar  claim  to  authenticity.  "  Who- 
ever has  any  of  the  folios,  (says  Dr.  Johnson,)  has 
all,  excepting  those  diversities  which  mere  reitera- 
tion of  editions  will  produce.  I  collated  them  all 
at  the  beginning,  but  afterwards  used  only  the 
first,  from  which  (he  afterwards  adds,)  the  sub- 
sequent folios  never  differ  but  by  accident  or  neg- 
ligence." Mr.  Steevens,  however,  does  not  sub- 
scribe to  this  opinion.     "  The  edition  of  1632, 

9  Except  only  in  the  instance  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  where  the 
first  copy,  printed  in  1597,  appears  to  be  an  imperfect  sketch, 
and  therefore  cannot  be  entirely  relied  on.  Yet  even  this  fur- 
nishes many  valuable  corrections  of  the  more  perfect  copy  of  that 
tragedy  in  its  present  state,  printed  in  1599. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        443 

(says  that  gentleman,)  is  not  without  value ;  for 
though  it  be  in  some  places  more  incorrectly 
printed  than  the  preceding  one,  it  has  likewise 
the  advantage  of  various  readings,  which  are  not 
merely  such  as  re-iteration  of  copies  will  naturally 
produce." 

What  Dr.  Johnson  has  stated,  is  not  quite  accu- 
rate. The  second  folio  does  indeed  very  frequently 
differ  from  the  first  by  negligence  or  chance ;  but 
much  more  frequently  by  the  editor's  profound 
ignorance  of  our  poet's  phraseology  and  metre,  in 
consequence  of  which  there  is  scarce  a  page  of  the 
book  which  is  not  disfigured  by  the  capricious 
alterations  introduced  by  the  person  to  whom  the 
care  of  that  impression  was  entrusted.  This  per- 
son in  fact,  whoever  he  was,  and  Mr.  Pope,  were 
the  two  great  corrupters  of  our  poet's  text;  and  I 
have  no  doubt  that  if  the  arbitrary  alterations  in- 
troduced by  these  two  editors  were  numbered,  in 
the  plays  of  which  no  quarto  copies  are  extant, 
they  would  greatly  exceed  all  the  corruptions  and 
errors  of  the  press  in  the  original  and  onlvau then- 
tick  copy  of  those  plays.  Though  my  judgment 
on  this  subject  has  been  formed  after  a  very  careful 
examination,  I  cannot  expect  that  it  should  be  re- 
ceived on  my  mere  assertion :  and  therefore  it  is 
necessary  to  substantiate  it  by  proof.  This  cannot 
be  effected  but  by  a  long,  minute,  and  what  I  am 
afraid  will  appear  to  many,  an  uninteresting  dis- 
quisition :  but  let  it  still  be  remembered  tliat  to 
ascertain  the  genuine  text  of  these  plays  is  an  ob- 
ject of  great  importance. 

On  a  revision  of  the  second  folio  printed  in 
1632,  it  will  be  found,  that  the  editor  of  that  book 
was  entirely  ignorant  of  our  poet's  phraseology  and 
metre,  and  that  various  alterations  were  made  by 


444        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

him,  in  consequence  of  that  ignorance,  which  ren- 
der his  edition  of  no  value  whatsoever. 

I.  His  ignorance  of  Shakspeare's  phraseology 
is  proved  by  the  following  among  many  other  in- 
stances. 

He  did  not  know  that  the  double  negative  was 
the  customary  and  authorized  language  of  the  age 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  therefore,  instead  of — 

"  Nor  to  her  bed  no  homage  do  I  owe." 

Comedy  ofErrorsy  Act  III.  sc.  ii. 

he  printed — 

"  Nor  to  her  bed  a  homage  do  I  owe." 

So,  in  As  you  like  it,  Act  II.  sc.  iv.  instead  of — 
"  I  can  not  go  no  further,"  he  printed — "  I  can  go 
no  further." 

In  Mitch  Ado  about  Nothing,  Act  III.  sc.  i. 
Hero,  speaking  of  Beatrice,  says, 

« there  will  she  hide  her, 

"  To  listen  our  purpose." 

for  which  the  second  folio  substitutes — 

there  will  she  hide  her, 


"  To  listen  to  our  purpose ." 

Again,  in  The  Winter's  Tale,  Act  I.  sc.  ii : 
"  Thou  dost  make  possible,  things  not  so  held." 

The  plain  meaning  is,  thou  dost  make  those 
things  possible,  which  are  held  to  be  impossible. 
But  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  not  understand- 
ing the  line,  reads — 

"  Thou  dost  make  possible  things  not  to  be  so  held ;" 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        445 

i.  e.  thou  dost  make  those  things  to  be  esteemed 
impossible,  which  are  possible :  the  very  reverse 
of  what  the  poet  meant. 

In  the  same  play  is  this  line : 

"  I  am  appointed  him  to  murder  you." 

Here  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  not  being 
conversant  with  Shakspeare's  irregular  language, 
reads — 

"  I  appointed  him  to  murder  you." 

Again,  in  Macbeth : 

"  This  diamond  he  greets  your  wife  withal, 

"  By  the  name  of  most  kind  hostess ;  and  shut  up 

'*  In  measureless  content." 

Not  knowing  that  shut  up  meant  concluded,  the 
editor  of  the  second  folio  reads — 

and  shut  it  up  [i.  e.  the  diamond] 


"  In  measureless  content." 

In  the  same  play  the  word  luted,  ("  Now  spurs 
the  'lated  traveller — ")  not  being  understood,  is 
changed  to  latest,  and  Colmes-Inch  to  Colmcs- 
hilL 

Again,  ibidem:  when  Macbeth  says,  "  Hang 
those  that  talk  of  fear,"  it  is  evident  that  these 
words  are  not  a  wish  or  imprecation,  but  an  in- 
junction to  hang  all  the  cowards  in  Scotland.  The 
editor  of  the  second  folio,  however,  considering 
the  passage  in  the  former  light,  reads : 

"  Hang  them  that  stand  in  fear." 

From  the  same  ignorance, 


446         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

"  And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools 
M  The  way  to  dusty  death." 

is  changed  to— 

"  And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools 
u  The  way  to  study  death." 

In  King  Richard  II,  Bolingbroke  says, 

"  And  I  must  find  that  title  in  your  tongue,"  &c 

i.  e.  you  must  address  me  by  that  title.  But  this 
not  being  understood,  town  is  in  the  second  folio 
substituted  for  tongue. 

The  double  comparative  is  common  in  the  plays 
of  Shakspeare.     Yet,  instead  of 

•' I'll  give  my  reasons 

*'  More  worthier  than  their  voices." 

Coriolanus,  Act  III.  sc.  i.    First  Folio. 

we  have  in  the  second  copy, 

"  More  worthy  than  their  voices." 

So,  in  Othello,  Act  I.  sc.  v. — "  opinion,  a  sove- 
reign mistress  of  effects,  throws  a  more  safer  voice 
on  you," — is  changed  in  the  second  folio,  to — 
"  opinion,  &c.  throws  a  more  safe  voice  on  you." 

Again,  in  Hamlet,  Act  III.  sc.  ii.  instead  of — 
*'  your  wisdom  should  show  itself  more  richer,  to 
signify  this  to  the  doctor;"  we  find  in  the  copy  of 

1632,  " your  wisdom  should  show  itself  more 

rich"  &c. 

In  The  Winter's  Tale,  the  word  vast  not  being 
understood, 

" they  shook  hands  as  over  a  vast"    First  Folio. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         447 

we  find  in  the  second  copy,  "  — as  over  a  vast 
sea.'* 

In  King  John,  Act  V.  sc.  v.  first  folio,  are  these 
lines : 

The  English,  lords 


"  By  his  persuasion  are  again  fallen  off." 

The  editor  of  the  second  folio,  thinking,  I  sup- 
pose, that  as  these  lords  had  not  before  deserted  the 
French  king,  it  was  improper  to  say  that  they  had 
again  fallen  off,  substituted  "  —  are  at  last  fallen 
off;"  not  perceiving  that  the  meaning  is,  that 
these  lords  had  gone  back  again  to  their  own 
countrymen,  whom  they  had  before  deserted. 

In  King  Henri/  VIII.  Act  II.  sc.  ii.  Norfolk, 
speaking  of  Wolsey,  says,  "  I'll  venture  one  have  at 
him."  This  being  misunderstood,  is  changed  in  the 
second  copy  to — "  I'll  venture  one  heave  at  him." 

JuliusCtesar  likewise  furnishes  various  specimens 
of  his  ignorance  of  Shakspeare's  language.  The 
phrase,  to  bear  hard,  not  being  understood,  in- 
stead of — 

"  Caius  Ligarius  doth  bear  Caesar  hard."     First  Folio, 
we  find  in  the  second  copy, 

*«  Caius  Ligarius  doth  bear  Caesar  hatred." 

and  from  the  same  cause  the  words  dank,  blest,  and 
hurtled,  are  dismissed  from  the  text,  and  more  fa- 
miliar words  substituted  in  their  room.' 

1        **  To  walk  unbraced,  and  suck  up  the  humours 
"  Of  the  dank  morning."     First  Folio. 
"  Of  the  dark  morning.''     Second  Folio. 

**  We  are  blest  that  Rome  is  rid  of  him."  First  Folio. 

■«  We  are  glad  that  Rome  is  rid  of  him."  Second  Folio. 

•«  The  noise  of  battle  hurtled  in  the  air."  First  Folio. 

"  The  noise  of  battle  hurried  in  the  air."  Second  Folio. 


448         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

In  like  manner  in  the  third  Act  of  Coriolanus, 
sc.  ii.  the  ancient  verb  to  owe,  i.  e.  to  possess,  is 
discarded  by  this  editor,  and  own  substituted  in  its 
place. 

In  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  we  find  in  the  original 
copy  these  lines : 

I  say  again,  thy  spirit 


"  Is  all  afraid  to  govern  thee  near  him, 
"  But  he  alway,  'tis  noble." 

Instead  of  restoring  the  true  word  away,  which 
was  thus  corruptly  exhibited,  the  editor  of  the  se- 
cond folio,  without  any  regard  to  the  context,  alter- 
ed another  part  of  the  line,  and  absurdly  printed — 
"  But  he  alway  is  noble." 

In  the  same  play,  Act  I.  sc.  iii.  Cleopatra  says 
to  Charmian — "  Quick  and  return ;"  for  which  the 
editor  of  the  second  folio,  not  knowing  that  quick 
was  either  used  adverbially,  or  elliptically  for  Be 
quick,  substitutes — "  Quickly,  and  return." 

In  Timon  of  Athens,  are  these  lines: 

"  And  that  unapt/less  made  your  minister 
"  Thus  to  excuse  yourself." 

i.  e.  and  made  that  unaptness  your  minister  to  ex- 
cuse yourself;  or,  in  other  words,  availed  yourself 
of  that  unaptness  as  an  excuse  for  your  own  con- 
duct. The  words  being  inverted  and  put  out  of 
their  natural  order,  the  editor  of  the  second  folio 
supposed  that  unaptness,  being  placed  first,  must  be 
the  nominative  case,  and  therefore  reads — 

"  And  that  unaptness  made  you  minister, 
"  Thus  to  excuse  yourself." 

In  that  play,  from  the  same  ignorance,  instead 
of  Timon's  exhortation  to  the  thieves,  to  kill  as 


MR.  MALONES  PREFACE.         449 

well  as  rob.— «  like  wealth  and  lives  together," 
we  find  m  the  second  copy,  «  Take  wealth,  and 
live  together."  And  with  equal  ignorance  and 
licentiousness  this  editor  altered  the  epitaph  on 
Timon,  to  render  it  what  he  thought  metrical,  by 
leaving  out  various  words.  In  the  original  edition 
it  appears  as  it  does  in  Plutarch,  and  therefore  we 
may  be  certain  that  the  variations  in  the  second 
copy  were  here,  as  in  other  places,  all  arbitrary  and 
capricious. 

Again,  in  the  same  play,  we  have — 

"ZdehTdland." 
and — 

"  O,  my  good  lord,  the  world  is  but  a  xvord"  &c. 

The  editor  not  understanding  either  of  these  pas- 
sages, and  supposing  that  /  in  the  first  of  them  was 
used  as  a  personal  pronoun,  (whereas  it  stands  ac- 
cording to  the  usage  of  that  time  for  the  affirmative 
particle,  ay ,)  reads  in  the  first  line, 

'*  I  defy  land  ;" 

and  exhibits  the  other  line  thus  : 

"  O,  ray  good  lord,  the  world  is  but  a  u-orU,"  Sec. 

Our  author  and  the  contemporary  writers  gene- 
rally write  wars,  not  war,  &c.  The  editor  of  the 
second  folio  being  unapprised  of  this,  reads  in 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Act  III.  sc.  v:  "  (  eeaar 
having  made  use  of  him  in  the  war  against  Pom- 
pey," — instead  of  wars,  the  reading  of  the  original 
copy. 

TIk-  seventh  scene  ol  the  fourth  act  of  this  play 

vol.  i.  o  G 


450        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

t 

concludes  with  these  words  :  "  Despatch. — Eno- 

barbus !"  Antony,  who  is  the  speaker,  desires  his 
attendant  Eros  to  despatch,  and  then  pronounces 
the  name  Enobarbus,  who  had  recently  deserted 
him,  and  whose  loss  he  here  laments.  But  there 
being  no  person  on  the  scene  but  Eros,  and  the 
point  being  inadvertently  omitted  after  the  word 
dispatch,  the  editor  of  the  second  folio  supposed 
that  Enobarbus  must  have  been  an  error  of  the 
press,  and  therefore  reads : 

"  Dispatch,  Eros.** 

In  Troilus  and  Cressida,  Cressida  says, 

"  Things  won  are  done ;  joy's  soul  lies  in  the  doing." 

i.  e.  the  soul  of  joy  lies,  &c.  So,  "  love's  visible 
soul"  and  "  my  soul  of  counsel-"  expressions  like- 
wise used  by  Shakspeare.  Here  also  the  editor  of 
the  second  folio  exhibiti  equal  ignorance  of  his 
author;  for  instead  of  this  eminently  beautiful 
expression,  he  has  given  us — 

"  Things  won  are  done ;  the  soul's  joy  lies  in  doing." 

In  King  Richard  III.  Ratcliff,  addressing  the 
lords  at  Pomfret,  says, 

"  Make  haste,  the  hour  of  death  is  expiate." 

for  which  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  alike 
ignorant  of  the  poet's  language  and  metre,  has 
substituted, 

»'  Make  haste,  the  hour  of  death  is  novo  expir'd." 

So,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet : 

"  The  earth  hath  swallow'd  all  my  hopes  but  she." 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        451 

The  word  The  being  accidentally  omitted  in  the 
first  folio,  the  editor  of  the  second  supplied  the 
defect  by  reading — 

"  Earth  hath  up  swallowed  all  ray  hopes  but  she." 

Again,  in  the  same  play ;  ««  I'll  lay  fourteen  of 
my  teeth,  and  yet,  to  my  teen  be  it  spoken,  I  have 
but  four:"  not  understanding  the  word  teen,  he 
substituted  teeth  instead  of  it. 

Again,  ibidem  : 

"  Prick'd  from  the  lazy  finger  of  a  maid — " 

Man  being  corruptly  printed  instead  of  maid'm  the 
first  folio,  1623,  the  editor  of  the  second,  who 
never  examined  a  single  quarto  copy,8  corrected 
the  error  at  random,  by  reading — 

•  That  this  editor  never  examined  any  of  the  quarto  copies,  is 
proved  by  the  following  instances : 

In  TroUus  and  Cressida,  we  find  in  the  first  folio : 
**  ■      the  remainder  viands 

"  We  do  not  throw  in  unrespective  same, 
"  Because  we  now  are  full." 
Finding  this  nonsense,  he  printed  "  in  unrespective  place."  In 
the  quarto  he  would  have  found  the  true  word — sieve. 

Again,  in  the  same  play,  the  following  lines  are  thus  corruptly 
exhibited : 

**  That  all  the  Greeks  begin  to  worship  Ajax  ; 
"  Since  things  in  motion  begin  to  catch  the  eye, 
"  Than  what  not  stirs." 
the  words — M  begin  to,"  being  inadvertently  repeated  in  the  se- 
cond line,  by  the  compositor's  eye  glancing  on  the  line  above. 

The  editor  of  the  second  folio,  instead  of  examining  the 
quarto,  where  he  would  have  found  tin-  true  reading: 

"  Since  things  in  motion  sootier  catch  the  eye." 
thought  only  of  amending  the  metre,  and  printed  the  line  thus : 

"  Since  things  in  motion  'gin  to  catch  the  eye—" 
leaving  the  passage  nonsense,  as  he  found  it. 
So,  in  Titus  Andronicus  : 

"  And  let  no  comfort  delight  mine  ear — " 


452         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

"  Prick'd  from  the  lazy  finger  of  a  woman*" 
Again : 

"  Dost  thou  love  me?  I  know  thou  wilt  say,  ay:" 

The  word  me  being  omitted  in  the  first  folio,  the 
editor  of  the  second  capriciously  supplied  the  metre 
thus: 


being  erroneously  printed  in  the  first  folio,  instead  of  "  And  let 
no  comforter"  &c.  the  editor  of  the  second  folio  corrected  the 
error  according  to  his  fancy,  by  reading — 

"  And  let  no  comfort  else  delight  mine  ear." 
So,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  Vol.  VII.  p.  96 :  "  Old  Man- 
tuan,  who  understands  thee  not,  loves  thee  not."  The  words  in 
the  Italick  character  being  inadvertently  omitted  in  the  first  folio, 
the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  instead  of  applying  to  the  quarto 
to  cure  the  defect,  printed  the  passage  just  as  he  found  it :  and 
in  like  manner  in  the  same  play  implicitly  followed  the  error  of 
the  first  folio,  which  has  been  already  mentioned, — 

"  O,  that  your  face  were  so  full  of  O's — " 
though  the  omission  of  the  word  not,  which  is  found  in  the 
quarto,  made  the  passage  nonsense. 
So,  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing  : 

"  And  I  will  break  with  her.   Was't  not  to  this  end,"  &c. 
being  printed  instead  of — 

"  And  I  will  break  with  her  and  with  her  father, 

"  And  thou  shalt  have  her.     Was't  not  to  this  end,"  &c. 
the  error,  which  arose  from  the  compositor's  eye  glancing  from 
one  line  to  the  other,  was  implicitly  adopted  in  the  second  folio. 
Again,  in  A  Midsummer- Night' s  Dream  : 

"  Ah  me,  for  aught  that  I  could  ever  read, 

"  Could  ever  hear,"  &c. 
the  words  Ah  me  being  accidentally  omitted  in  the  first  folio,  in- 
stead of  applying  to  the  quarto  for  the  true  reading,  he  supplied 
the  defect,  according  to  his  own  fancy,  thus : 

"  Hermia,  for  aught  that  I  could  ever  read,"  &c. 
Again,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  he  arbitrarily  gives  us — 

"  The  ewe  bleat  for  the  lamb  when  you  behold,' 
instead  of — 

"  Why  he  hath  made  the  ewe  bleat  for  the  lamb." 
See  p.  454.     Innumerable  other  instances  of  the  same  kind 
might  be  produced. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         453 

"  Dost  thou  love  ?  O,  I  know  thou  wilt  say,  ay." 

This  expletive,  we  shall  presently  find,  when 
I  come  to  speak  of  the  poet's  metre,  was  his  con- 
stant expedient  in  all  difficulties. 

In  Measure  for  Measure  he  printed  ignominy  in- 
stead ofignomy,  the  reading  of  the  first  folio,  and 
the  common  language  of  the  time.  In  the  same 
play, from  his  ignorance  of  the  constable's  humour, 
he  corrected  his  phraseology,  and  substituted  in- 
stant for  distant;  ("  —  at  that  very  distant  time:") 
and  in  like  manner  he  makes  Dogberry,  in  Much 
Ado  about  Nothing,  exhort  the  watch  not  to  be 
rigitant,  but  vigilant. 

Among  the  marks  of  love,  Rosalind,  In  As  you 
like  it,  mentions  t;  a  beard  neglected,  which  you 
have  not ; — but  I  pardon  you  lor  that ;  for,  simply, 
your  having  in  beard  is  a  younger  brother's  re- 
venue." Not  understanding  the  meaning  of  the 
word  having,  this  editor  reads — "  your  having  no 
beard,"  &c. 

In  A  Midsummer- Night's  Dream,  Pyramus  says, 

"  I  see  a  voice ;  now  will  I  to  the  chink, 
"  To  spy  an'  I  can  hear  my  Thisby's  face." 

Of  the  humour  of  this  passage  he  had  not  the 
least  notion,  for  he  printed,  instead  of  it, 

"  I  hear  a  voice  ;  now  will  I  to  the  cliink, 
"  To  spy  an'  I  can  see  my  Thisby's  face." 

In  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  I.  sc.  i.  we  find 

in  the  first  folio, 

*«  And  out  of  doubt  you  do  more  wrong—" 

which  the  editor  of  the  second  perceiving  to  U 

imperfect,  he  corrected  at  random  thus: 


454  MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

"  And  out  of  doubt  you  do  to  me  more  wrong." 

Had  he  consulted  the  original  quarto,  he  would 
have  found  that  the  poet  wrote — 

'•  And  out  of  doubt  you  do  me  novo  more  wrong." 

So,  in  the  same  play, — "  But  of  mine,  then 
yours,"  being  corruptly  printed  instead  of — "  But 
j/'mine,  then  yours, '  this  editor  arbitrarily  reads— r 
"  But  first  mine,  then  yours." 

Again,  ibidem : 

*c  Or  even  as  well  use  question  with  the  wolf, 
"  The  ewe  bleat  for  the  lamb." 

the  words  "  Wliy  he  hath  made"  being  omitted  in 
the  first  folio  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  line, 
the  second  folio  editor  supplied  the  defect  thus 
absurdly : 

"  Or  even  as  well  use  question  with  the  wolf, 
"  The  ewe  bleat  for  the  lamb  when  you  behold*'' 

In  Othello  the  word  snipe  being  misprinted  in 
the  first  folio, 

"  If  I  should  time  expend  with  such  a  snpe." 

the  editor  not  knowing  what  to  make  of  it,  sub- 
stituted swain  instead  of  the  corrupted  word. 
Again,  in  the  same  play, 

"  For  of  my  heart  those  charms^  thine  eyes,  are  blotted." 

being  printed  in  the  first  folio  instead  of — "  Forth 
of  my  heart,"  &c.  which  was  the  common  lan- 
guage of  the  time,  the.  editor  of  the  second  folio 
amended  the  error  according  to  his  fancy,  by 
reading — 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         455 

"  for  of  my  heart  those  charms,  thine  eyes,  are  blotted." 

Again,  in  the  same  play,  Act  V.  sc.  i.  not  under- 
standing the  phraseology  of  our  author's  time, 

"  Who's  there?  Whose  noise  is  this,  that  cries  on  murder?" 

he  substituted — 

11  Whose  noise  is  this,  that  cries  out  murder  ?" 

and  in  the  first  Act  of  the  same  play,  not  per- 
ceiving the  force  of  an  eminently  beautiful  epi- 
thet, for  "  desarts  idle"  he  has  given  us  "  desarts 
mid." 

Again,  in  that  tragedy  we  find — 


what  charms, 


"  What  conjuration,  and  what  mighty  magick, 
"  (For  such  proceeding  I  am  charg'd  withal,) 
"  I  won  his  daughter." 

that  is,  I  won  his  daughter  with;  and  so  the  editor 
of  the  second  folio  reads,  not  knowing  that  this 
kind  of  elliptical  expression  frequently  occurs  in 
this  author's  works,  as  I  have  shown  in  a  note  on 
the  last  scene  of  Cymbelinc,  and  in  other  places.' 

In  like  manner  he  has  corrupted  the  following 
passage  in  A  Midsummer-Night* s  Dream  : 

"  So  will  I  grow,  so  live,  so  die,  my  lord, 
"  Ere  I  will  yield  my  virgin  patent  up 
"  Unto  his  lordship,  whose  unxvished  yoke 
"  My  soul  consents  not  to  give  sovereignty." 

i.  e.  to  give  sovereignty  to.  Here  too  this  editor 
has   unnecessarily  tampered  with   the   text,  and 

•  See  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  647,  D.  2;  Vol.  XV.  p.  1%,  n.  * ;  and 
Vol.  XIX.  p.  266,  n.  7. 


456         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

having  contracted  the  word  unwished,  he  exhibited 
the  line  thus : 

"  Unto  his  lordship,  to  whose  unwish'd  yoke 
"  My  soul  consents  not  to  give  sovereignty." 

an  interpolation  which  was  adopted  in  the  sub- 
sequent copies,  and  which,  with  all  the  modern 
editors,  I  incautiously  suffered  to  remain  in  the 
present  edition.4 

The  grave-digger  in  Hamlet  observes  "  that  your 
tanner  will  last  you  nine  year"  and  such  is  the 
phraseology  which  Shakspeare  always  attributes  to 
his  lower  characters ;  but  instead  of  this,  in  the 
second  folio,  we  find — "  nine  years." 

"  Your  skill  shall,  like  a  star  i'the  darkest  night, 
*'  Stick  fiery  off  indeed. — " 

says  Hamlet  to  Laertes.  But  the  editor  of  the 
second  folio,  conceiving,  I  suppose,  that  if  a  star 
appeared  with  extraordinary  scintillation,  the  night 
must  necessarily  be  luminous,  reads — "  i'the 
brightest  night :"  and,  with  equal  sagacity,  not 
acquiescing  in  Edgar's  notion  of  "  four-inch? d 
bridges,"  this  editor  has  furnished  him  with  a 
much  safer  pass,  for  he  reads — "  four-arch' d 
bridges." 

In  King  Henry  VIII.  are  these  lines : 


If  we  did  think 


"  His  contemplation  were  above  the  earth — " 

Not  understanding  this  phraseology,  and  supposing 
that  were  must  require  a  noun  in  the  plural  num- 
ber, he  reads : 

4  See  Vol.  IV.  p.  322,  n.  7. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        457 


If  we  did  think 


"  His  contemplations  were  above  the  earth,"  Ac. 

Again,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  Act  IV.  sc.  ii : 

M  With  wings  more  momentary-sxoiji  than  thought." 

This  compound  epithet  not  being  understood,  he 
reads : 

"  With  wings  more  momentary,  swifter  than  thought." 

In  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  Act  I.  sc.  ii.  Hor- 
tensio,  describing  Catharine,  says, 

"  Her  only  fault  (and  that  is— faults  enough) 
"  Is, — that  she  is  intolerable  curst ; — " 

meaning,  that  this  one  was  a  host  of  faults.  But 
this  not  being  comprehended  by  the  editor  of  the 
second  folio,  with  a  view,  doubtless,  of  rendering 
the  passage  more  grammatical,  he  substituted — 
"  and  that  is  fault  enough." 

So,  in  King  Lear,  we  find — "  Do  you  know  this 
noble  gentleman  ?"  But  this  editor  supposing,  it 
should  seem,  that  a  gentleman  could  not  be  noble, 
or  that  a  noble  could  not  be  a  gentleman,  instead 
of  the  original  text,  reads — "  Do  you  know  this 
nobleman?** 

In  Measure  for  Measure,  Act  II.  sc.  i.  Escalus, 
addressing  the  Justice,  says,  "  I  pray  you  home  to 
dinner  with  me :"  this  familiar  diction  not  being 
understood,  we  find  in  the  second  foiio,  tk  J  pray 
you  go  home  to  dinner  with  me."  And  in  Othello, 
not  having  sagacity  enough  to  see  that  apines  was 
printed  by  a  mere  transposition  of  the  letters,  tor 
pames, 

**  Though  I  do  hate  him,  a*  I  do  hell  apines," 


458         MR.  MALONFS  PREFACE. 

instead  of  correcting  the  word,  he  evaded  the  diffi- 
culty by  omitting  it,  and  exhibited  the  line  in  an 
imperfect  state. 

The  Duke  of  York,  in  the  third  part  of  King 
Henry  VI  exclaims, 

"  That  face  of  his  the  hungry  cannibals 
"  Would  not  have  touch'd,  would  not  have  stain'd  with 
blood." 

These  lines  being  thus  carefully  arranged  in  the 
first  folio : 

"  That  face  of  his 

"  The  hungry  cannibals  would  not  have  touch'd, 

«*  Would  not  have  stain'd  with  blood — " 

the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  leaving  the  first  line 
imperfect  as  he  found  it,  completed  the  last  line  by 
this  absurd  interpolation : 

"  Would  not  have  stain'd  the  roses  just  with  blood." 

These  are  but  a  few  of  the  numerous  corruptions 
and  interpolations  found  in  that  copy,  from  the 
editor's  ignorance  of  Shakspeare's  phraseology. 

II.  Let  us  now  examine  how  far  he  was  ac- 
quainted with  the  metre  of  these  plays. 

In  The  Winter's  Tale,  Act  III.  sc.  ii.  we  find — 

"  What  wheels  ?  racks  ?  fires  ?  what  flaying  ?  boiling  ? 
"  In  leads,  or  oils  ?" 

Not  knowing  that  fires  was  used  as  a  dissyllable,  he 
added  the  word  burning  at  the  end  of  the  line  : 

"  What  wheels  ?  racks  ?  fires  ?  what  flaying  ?  boiling  ? 
burning  V* 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        459 

So  again,  in  Julius  Ca>sar,  Act  III.  sc.  ii.  from 
the  same  ignorance,  the  word  all  has  been  interpo- 
lated by  this  editor : 

"  And  with  the  brands  j\re  all  the  traitors'  houses." 

instead  of  the  reading  of  the  original  and  authen- 
tick  copy, 

"  And  with  the  brands  Jire  the  traitors'  houses." 
Again,  in  Macbeth : 

**  I  would,  while  it  was  smiling  in  my  face, 
"  Have  pluck'd  my  nipple  from  his  boneless  gums, 
"  And  dash'd  the  brains  out,  had  I  so  sworn 
*'  As  you  have  done  to  this." 

Not  perceiving  that  sworn  was  used  as  a  dissyllable, 
he  reads — "  had  I  but  so  sworn." 

Charms  our  poet  sometimes  uses  as  a  word  of  two 
syllables.     Thus,  in  The  Tempest,  Act  I.  sc.  ii : 

«  Curs'd  be  I,  that  did  so!  All  the  charms"  kc. 

instead  of  which  this  editor  gives  us, 

"  Curs'd  be  I,  that  /  did  so  !   All  the  charms,"  drc. 

Hour  is  almost  always  used  by  Shakspeare  as  a 
dissyllable,  but  of  this  the  editor  of  the  second  folio 
was  ignorant ;  for  instead  of  these  lines  in  King 
Richard  II: 

So  sighs,  and  tears,  and  groans, 


**  Show  minutes,  times,  and  hours:  but  my  time 
"  Runs  posting  on,"  &c. 


he  gives  us — 


460        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

u  — — So  sighs,  and  tears,  and  groans, 

"  Show  minutes,  times,  and  hours :  0  but  my  time,"*  &c. 

So  again,  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors : 

"  I'll  meet  you  in  that  place,  some  hour,  sir,  hence." 

instead  of  the  original  reading, 

"  I'll  meet  you  in  that  place  some  hour  hence." 

Again,  in  The  Winter's  Tale,  Act  I.  sc.  ii : 

" : — wishing  clocks  more  swift? 

"  Hours,  minutes?  Me  noon,  midnight?  and  all  eyes,"  &c. 

instead  of  the  original  reading, 

"  Hours,  minutes?  noon,  midnight?  and  all  eyes,"  &c. 

Again,  in  AWs  well  that  ends  well,  Act  II.  sc.  iii : 


J  In  Measure  for  Measure  we  find  these  lines : 

"  — Merciful  heaven ! 

"  Thou  rather,  with  thy  sharp  and  sulphurous  bolt, 
"  Split'st  the  unwedgeable  and  gnarled  oak, 
"  Than  the  soft  mirtle; — But  man,  proud  man,''  &c. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  a  word  was  omitted  in  the  last 
line  ;  perhaps  some  epithet  to  mirtle.     But  the  editor  of  the  se- 
cond folio,  resorting  to  his  usual  expedient,  absurdly  reads  : 
"  Than  the  soft  mirtle.     0  but  man,  proud  man, — ." 
So,  in  Titus  Andronicus,  Act  III.  sc.  ii:  complaynet  being 
corruptly  printed  instead  of  complayner, 

"  Speechless  complaynet,  I  will  learn  thy  thoughts, — " 
this  editor,  with  equal  absurdity,  reads: 

"  Speechless  complaint,  0,  I  will  learn  thy  thoughts." 
I  have  again  and  again  had  occasion  to  mention  in  the  notes 
on  these  plays,  that  omission  is  of  all  the  errors  of  the  press  that 
which  most  frequently  happens.  On  collating  the  fourth  edition 
of  King  Richard  III.  printed  in  1612,  with  the  second  printed 
in  1598, 1  found  no  less  than  tvoenty-six  words  omitted. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        461 

"  Which  challenges  itself  as  honours  born, 

"  And  is  not  like  the  sire.     Honours  thrive,"  &c 

This  editor,  not  knowing  that  sire  was  used  as  a 
dissyllable,  reads : 

"  And  is  not  like  the  sire.     Honours  best  thrive,"  Ac. 

So,  in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  I : 

"  Rescued  is  Orleans  from  the  English.*' 

Not  knowing  that  English  was  used  as  a  trisyllable, 
he  has  completed  the  line,  which  he  supposed  de- 
fective, according  to  his  own  fancy,  and  reads : 

"  Rescu'd  is  Orleans  from  the  English  toolves." 

The  same  play  furnishes  us  with  various  other 
proofs  of  his  ignorance  of  our  poet's  metre.  Thus, 
instead  of 

"  Orleans  the  bastard,  Charles,  Burgundy, — " 

he  has  printed  (not  knowing  that  Charles  was  used 
as  a  word  of  two  syllables,) 

44  Orleans  the  bastard,  Charles,  and  Burgundy." 

So,  instead  of  the  original  reading, 
"  Divinest  creature,  Astraa's  daughter, — " 

[Astrcea  being  used  as  a  word  of  three  syllables,) 
lie  has  printed — 

"  Divinest  creature,  bright  Astrara's  daughter." 

Again,  ibidem: 

"  Whereas  the  contrary  bringcth  bhW 


462         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

Not  knowing  that  contrary  was  used  as  a  word  of 
four  syllables,  he  reads : 

"  Whereas  the  contrary  bringeth  forth  bliss." 
So  sure  is  used  in  the  same  play,  as  a  dissyllable : 

11  Gloster,  we'll  meet:  to  thy  cost,  be  sure?'' 

but  this  editor,  not  aware  of  this,  reads  : 

"  Gloster,  we'll  meet ;  to  thy  dear  cost,  be  sure." 
Again,  in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  II. 

"  And  so  to  arms,  victorious  father, — " 

arms  being  used  as  a  dissyllable.     But  the  second 
folio  reads : 

"  And  so  to  arms,  victorious  noble  father." 

Again,  in  Twelfth-Night,  Act  I.  sc.  i.  we  find — 
when  liver,  brain,  and  heart, 


««  These  sovereign  thrones,  are  all  supply'd,  and  fill'd, 
"  (Her  sweet  perfections)  with  one  self-king." 

for  which  the  editor,  not  knowing  that  perfections 
was  used  as  a  quadrisyllable,  has  substituted — 

•  when  liver,  brain,  and  heart, 


"  These  sovereign  thrones,  are  all  supply'd,  and  fill'd, 
"  (Her  sweet  perfections)  with  one  selfsame  king." 

Again,  in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  II : 
"  Prove  it,  Henry,  and  thou  shalt  be  king." 

for  which  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  not  know- 
ing  Henry  to  be  used  as  a  trisyllable,  gives  us, 

"  But  prove  it,  Henry,  and  thou  shalt  be  king." 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        463 

In  like  manner  dazzled  is  used  by  Shakspeare 
as  a  trisyllable  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona, 
Act  II.  sc.  iv  : 

"  And  that  hath  dazzled  my  reason's  light." 

instead  of  which,  we  find  in  the  second  folio, 

"  And  that  hath  dazzled  so  my  reason's  light." 

The  words  neither,  rather,  kc.  are  frequently 
used  by  Shakspeare  as  words  of  one  syllable.  So, 
in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  Ill :      * 

"  And  neither  by  treason,  nor  hostility, 
"  To  seek  to  put  me  down — ." 

for  which  the  editor  of  the  second  folio  has  given 
us, 

"  Neither  by  treason,  nor  hostility,"  &c. 

In  Timon  of  Athens,  Act  III.  sc.  v.  Alcibiades 

asks, 

"  Is  this  the  balsam,  that  the  usuring  senate 
"  Pours  into  captains'  wounds?  banishment?" 

The  editor  of  the  second  folio,  not  knowing  that 
pours  was  used  as  a  dissyllable,  to  complete  the 
supposed  defect  in  the  metre,  reads : 

"  Is  this  the  balsam,  that  the  usuring  senate 

"  Pours  into  captains'  wounds!  ha!  banUhment )" 

Tickled  is  often  used  by  Shakspeare  and  the  eon- 
temporary  poets,  as  a  word  of  three  syllables.  So, 
in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  II : 

"  She's  tickled  now  ;  her  fume  need*  no  spur*." 

instead  of  which,  in  the  second  folio  we  have, — 


464        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

"  She's  tickled  now ;  her  fume  can  need  no  spurs." 

So,  in  Titus  Andronicus,  Act  II.  sc.  i : 

"  Better  than  he  have  -worn  Vulcan's  badge." 

This  editor,  not  knowing  that  worn  was  used  as  a 
dissyllable,  reads : 

"  Better  than  he  have  yet  worn  Vulcan's  badge." 
Again,  in  Cymbeline,  Aet  II.  sc.  v : 

"  All  faults  that  name,  nay,  that  hell  knows,  why  hers, 
"  In  part,  or  all;  but  rather  all:  for  even  to  vice,"  &c. 

These  lines  being  thus  carelessly  distributed  in 
the  original  copy, — 

'*  All  faults  that  name,  nay,  that  hell  knows, 
"  Why  hers,  in  part,  or  all ;  but  rather  all :"  &c. 

the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  to  supply  the  defect 
of  the  first  line,  arbitrarily  reads,  with  equal  igno- 
rance of  his  author's  metre  and  phraseology, 

"  All  faults  that  may  be  named,  nay,  that  hell  knows, 
"  Why  hers,"  &c. 

In  King  Henry  IV.  P.  II.  Act  I.  sc.  iii.  is  this 
line: 

"  And  being  now  trimm'd  in  thine  own  desires, — ." 

instead  of  which  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  to 
remedy  a  supposed  defect  in  the  metre,  has  given 
us — 

"  And  being  now  trimm'd  up  in  thine  own  desires,—." 

Again,  in  As  you  like  it,  Act  II.  sc.  i : 
he  pierceth  through 


The  body  of  city,  country,  court, — ." 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        465 

instead  of  which  we  find  in  the  second  folio,  (the 
editor  not  knowing  that  country  was  used  as  a  tri- 
syllable,) 

he  pierceth  through 


"  The  body  of  city,  the  country,  court" 

In  like  manner,  in  The  Winter's  Tale,  Act  I. 
sc.  i.  he  has  given  us  : 


we  knew  not 


"  The  doctrine  of  ill-doing,  no  nor  dream'd 
"  That  any  did : " 


instead  of — 


we  knew  not 


"  The  doctrine  of  ill-doing,  nor  dream'd,"  Sec. 

doctrine  being  used  as  a  word  of  three  syllables. 

"  Pay  him  six  thousand,"  &c.  says  Portia  in  The 
Merchant  of  Venice, 

"  Before  a  friend  of  this  description 

"  Should  lose  a  hair  through  Bassanio's  fault." 

the  word  hair  being  used  as  a  dissyllable,  or  Bas- 
sanio  as  a  quadrisyllable.  Of  this  the  editor  of  the 
second  folio  was  wholly  ignorant,  and  therefore 
reads : 

"  Should  lose  a  hair  through  my  Bassanio's  fault" 

In  The  Winter's  Tale,  Act  IV.  sc.  iii.  Florizel, 
addressing  Perdita,  says, 

my  desires 


*«  Run  not  before  mine  honour ;  nor  my  lusts 
—  Burn  hotter  than  my  faith." 

To  complete  the  last  hemistich,  Perdita  is  made 
to  reply, 

vol.  i.  "  « 


466         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

««  O  but,  sir, 

"  Your  resolution  cannot  hold." 

Here  again  this  editor  betrays  his  ignorance  of 
Shakspeare's  metre;  for  not  knowing  that  burn 
was  used  as  a  dissyllable,  he  reads — 

"  O  but,  dear  sir,"  &c. 

Again,  in  King  Henry  VIII.  Act  II.  sc.  iii.  the 
Old  Lady  declares  to  Anne  Boleyn, 

"  'Tis  strange  ;  a  three-pence  bow'd  would  hire  me, 
"  Old  as  I  am,  to  queen  it." 

'  But  instead  of  this,  hire  not  being  perceived  to  be 
used  as  a  word  of  two  syllables,  we  find  in  the  se- 
cond folio, 

*4  'Tis  strange ;   a  three-pence  bow'd  now  would  hire 
me,"  &c. 

This  editor,  indeed,  was  even  ignorant  of  the 
author's  manner  of  accenting  words,  for  in  The 
Tempest,  where  we  find, 


Spirits,  which  by  mine  art 


"  I  have  from  their  confines  call'd  to  enact 
"  My  present  fancies,—" 

he  exhibits  the  second  line  thus : 

"  I  have  from  all  their  c6nfines  call'd  to  enact,"  &c. 

Again,  in  King  Lear,  Act  II.  sc.  i.  instead  of — 

"  To  have  the  expence  and  waste  of  his  revenues,—" 

the  latter  word,  being,  I  suppose,  differently  ac- 
cented after  our  poet's  death,  the  editor  of  the  se- 
cond folio  has  given  us, 

"  To  have  the  expence  and  waste  of  revenues." 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         407 

Various  other  instances  of  the  same  kind  might 
be  produced ;  but  that  I  may  not  weary  niv  readers, 
I  will  only  add,  that  no  person  who  wishes  to  peruse 
the  plays  of  Shakspeare  should  ever  open  the 
Second  Folio,  or  either  of  the  subsequent  copu  -, 
in  which  all  these  capricious  alterations  were 
adopted,  with  many  additional  errors  and  inno- 
vations. 

It  may  seem  strange,  that  the  person  to  whom 
the  care  of  supervising  the  second  folio  was  con- 
signed, should  have  been  thus  ignorant  of  our 
poet's  language:  but  it  should  be  remembered, 
that  in  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the 
First  many  words  and  modes  ot  speecli  began  to 
be  disused,  which  had  been  common  in  the  age  of 
Queen  Elizabeth.  The  editor  of  the  second  folio 
was  probably  a  young  man,  perhaps  born  in  the 
year  1 600.  That  Sir  William  D' Avenant,  who  was 
born  in  160.5,  did  not  always  perfectly  understand 
our  author's  language,  is  manifest  from  various  al- 
terations which  he  has  made  in  some  of  his  pieces. 
The  successive  Chronicles  of  English  history,  which 
were  compiled  between  the  years  1540  and  1630, 
afford  indubitable  proofs  of  the  gradual  change  in 
our  phraseology  during  that  period.  Thus  a  narra- 
tive which  Hall  exhibits  in  what  now  appears  to  us 
as  very  uncouth  and  ancient  diction,  is  again  ex- 
hibited by  Holinshed,  about  forty  years  afterwards, 
in  somewhat  a  less  rude  form;  and  in  the  chronicles 
of  Speed  and  Baker  in  1611  and  1630,  assumes  a 
somewhat  more  polished  air.  In  the  second  edi- 
tion of  Gascoigne's  Poems  printed  in  1.587,  the 
editor  thought  it  necessary  to  explain  many  of  the 
words  by  placing  more  familiar  terms  in  the  margin, 
though   not  much  more  than   twenty  years   had 

H  li  '2 


468         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

elapsed  from  the  time  of  their  composition :  so  rapid 
were  at  that  time  the  changes  in  our  language. 

My  late  friend  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  a  man  of  such 
candour,  accuracy,  and  profound  learning,  that 
his  death  must  be  considered  as  an  irreparable  loss 
to  literature,  was  of  opinion,  that  in  printing  these 
plays  the  original  spelling  should  be  adhered  to, 
and  that  we  never  could  be  sure  of  a  perfectly 
faithful  edition,  unless  the  first  folio  copy  was 
made  the  standard,  and  actually  sent  to  the  press, 
with  such  corrections  as  the  editor  might  think 
proper.  By  others  it  was  suggested,  that  the  notes 
should  not  be  subjoined  to  the  text,  but  placed  at 
the  end  of  each  volume,  and  that  they  should  be 
accompanied  by  a  complete  Glossary.  The  former 
scheme  (that  of  sending  the  first  folio  to  the  press) 
appeared  to  me  liable  to  many  objections ;  and  I 
am  confident  that  if  the  notes  were  detached  from 
the  text,  many  readers  would  remain  uninformed, 
rather  than  undergo  the  trouble  occasioned  by 
perpetual  references  from  one  part  of  a  volume  to 
another. 

In  the  present  edition  I  have  endeavoured  to 
obtain  all  the  advantages  which  would  have  re- 
sulted from  Mr.  Tyrrwhitt's  plan,  without  any  of 
its  inconveniences.  Having  often  experienced  the 
fallaciousness  of  collation  by  the  eye,  I  deter- 
mined, after  I  had  adjusted  the  text  in  the  best 
manner  in  my  power,  to  have  every  proof-sheet  of 
my  work  read  aloud  to  me,  while  I  perused  the 
first  folio,  for  those  plays  which  first  appeared  in 
that  edition;  and  for  all  those  which  had  been 
previously  printed,  the  first  quarto  copy,  excepting 
only  in  the  instances  of  The  Merry  Wives  of  Wind- 
sor, and  King  Henry  V, which,  being  either  sketches 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         4G9 

or  imperfect  copies,  could  not  be  wholly  relied 
on  ;  and  King  Richard  III.6  of  the  earliest  edition 
of  which  tragedy  I  was  not  possessed.  I  had  at  the 
same  time  before  me  a  table  which  I  had  formed 
of  the  variations  between  the  quartos  and  the  folio. 
By  this  laborious  process  not  a  single  innovation, 
made  either  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  or 
any  of  the  modern  editors,  could  escape  me.  From 
the  Index  to  all  the  words  and  phrases  explained 
or  illustrated  in  the  notes,  which  I  have  subjoined 
to  this  work,7  every  use  may  be  derived  which  the 
most  copious  Glossary  could  afford  ;  while  those 
readers  who  are  less  intent  on  philological  inquiries, 
by  the  notes  being  appended  to  the  text,  are  re- 
lieved from  the  irksome  task  of  seeking  informa- 
tion in  a  different  volume  from  that  immediately 
before  them. 

If  it  be  asked,  what  has  been  the  fruit  of  all  this 
labour,  I  answer,  that  many  innovations,  transposi- 
tions, &c.  have  been  detected  by  this  means ;  many 
hundred  emendations  have  been  made,sand,  I  trust, 

a  At  the  time  the  tragedy  of  King  Richard  III.  was  in  the 
press,  I  was  obliged  to  make  use  of  the  second  edition  printed  in 
1598  ;  but  have  since  been  furnished  with  the  edition  of  1597, 
which  I  have  collated  verbatim,  and  the  most  material  variation* 
are  noticed  in  the  Appendix. 

7  If  the  explication  of  any  word  or  phrase  should  appear  un- 
satisfactory, the  reader,  by  turning  to  the  Glossarial  Index,  may 
know  at  once  whether  any  additional  information  has  been  ob- 
tained on  the  subject,  thus,  in  Macbeth,  Vol.  IV.  p.  392,  Dr. 
Warburton'a  »  rroneous  interpretation  of  the  word  blood-bolter' d 
is  inserted  ;  but  the  true  explication  of  that  provincial  term  may 
be  found  in  the  APPENDIX.  So  of  the  phrase,  •«  WtU  you  take 
eggs  for  money'  in  The  Winter's  Tale  ;  and  home  Other*. 

•  I^st  this  assertion  should  be  supposed  to  be  made  without 
evidence,  1  subjoin  a  list  of  the  restorations  made  from  the  ori- 
ginal copy,  and  supported  by  contemporary  u*age,  in  two  plays 
only;  The  Winters  /a/rand  King  John.  The  lines  in  the  Itahck 
character  are   exhibited  as  they  appear  in  the  edition  of  1  mH, 


470        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

a  genuine  text  has  been  formed.     Wherever  any 

(as  being  much  more  correctly  printed  than  that  of  1785,)  those 
in  the  common  character  as  they  appear  in  the  present  edition 
(i.  e.  Mr.  Malone's,  in  ten  volumes). 

THE    WINTER'S    TALE. 

P 11  give  you  my  commission, 


"  To  let  him  there  a  month."     P.  293. 

" I'll  give  him  my  commission, 

"  To  let  him  there  a  month."     P.  125. 

2.  " — —  we  know  not 

"  The  doctrine  of  ill-doing,  no,  nor  dream'd — "     P.  295. 

<c we  know  not 

"  The  doctrine  of  ill-doing;  nor  dream'd — ."     P.  126. 

3.  "  As  d'er-dtfd  blacks,  as  winds,  as  waters; — "    P.  300. 
"  As  o'er-dy'd  blacks,  as  wind,  as  waters; — "     P.  130. 

4.  "  As  ornament  oft  does."     P.  302.   ■ 
"  As  ornaments  oft  do."     P.  130. 

The  original  copy,  with  a  disregard  of  grammar,  reads — M  As 
ornaments  oft  does."  This  inaccuracy  has  been  constantly  cor- 
rected by  every  editor,  wherever  it  occurs ;  but  the  correction 
should  always  be  made  in  the  verb,  and  not  in  the  noun. 

5.  **  Have  you  not — thought  {for  cogitation 

"  Resides  not  in  the  man  that  does  not  think  it) 

"  My  wife  is  slippery?"     P,  408. 

"  Have  you  not — thought  (for  cogitation 

"  Resides  not  in  the  man  that  does  not  think) 

"  My  wife  is  slippery  ?"     P.  138. 

6.  " wishing  clocks  more  swift  ? 

"  Hours,  minutes,  the  noon  midnight  ?  and  all  eyes,—?y 

P.  408. 

'.* wishing  clocks  more  swift  ? 

"  Hours  minutes  ?  noon  midnight  ?  and  all  eyes,—" 

P.  139. 

7.  " —  Ay,  and  thou, — who  may'st  see 

"  How  I  am  gall'd — thou  might'st  be-spice  a  cup, — " 

P.  309. 

" Ay,  and  thou, — who  may'st  see 

"  How  I  am  galled, — -might'st  be-spice  a  cup, — " 

P.  140, 

I'll  keep  my  stable  where 


I  lodge  my  wife;—"     P.  325. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         471 

deviation   is   made  from  the  authentick  copies, 

"  I'll  keep  my  stables  where 

"  I  lodge  my  wife; — "     P.  153. 

9.    "  Relish  as  truth  like  us."     P.  317. 
"  Relish  a  truth  like  us."     P.  156. 

10.  "  And  I  beseech  you,  hear  me,  who  profess — "     P.   333. 
"  And  I  beseech  you  hear  me,  who  professes — "  P.  162. 

11.  "  This  session  to  our  great  grief,—"     P.  343. 
"  This  sessions  to  our  great  grief, — "     P.  170. 

12.  "  The  bug  which  you  will  fright  me  with,  I  seek." 

P.  S47. 

"  The  bug  which  you  would  fright  me  with,  I  seek." 

P.  175. 

13.  "  You  here  shall  swear  upon  the  sword  of  justice, — " 

P.  349. 
"  You  here  shall  swear  upon  this  sword  of  justice, — " 

P.  177. 

14.  "  The  session  shall  proceed."     P.  349. 
"  The  sessions  shall  proceed."     P.  178. 

15.  "  Which  yon  knew  great ;  and  to  the  certain  hazard 
"  Of  all  incertainties—"     P.  350. 

"  Which  you  knew  great,  and  to  the  hazard 
"  Of  all  incertainties—"     P.  179. 

Some  word  was  undoubtedly  omitted  at  the  press  ;  (probably 

fearful  or  doubtful ;)  but  1  thought  it  better  to  exhibit  the  line 

in  an  imperfect  state,  than  to  adopt  the  interpolation  made  by 

the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  who  has  introduced  perhaps  as 

unfit  a  word  as  could  have  been  chosen. 

16.  "  Through  my  dark  rust  !  and  how  his  piety — "  P.  360. 
"  Thorough  my  rust !  and  how  his  piety — '*     P.  17!'. 

The  first  word  of  the  line  is  in  the  old  copy  by  the  mistake  of 
the  compositor  printed  Through. 

17.  "  O  but  dear  sir,—"     P.  375. 
"  O  but,  sir,—"     P.  200. 

IS.    "  Your  discontenting  father  I'll  strive  to  qualify, — " 

P.  401. 
"  Your  discontenting  father  strive  to  qualify,—''   P. 

19.    "  If  1  thought  it  were  nut  a  piece  of  honest y  to  acquaint 
the  king  withal,  I  would  do  it."     P.  K>7. 
"  If  I  thought  it  were  a  piece  of  honesty  to  acquaint  th« 
king  withal,  I'd  nut  do  it."     P.  229. 


472         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

except  in  the  case  of  mere  obvious  errors  of  the 


20.  "  Dost  thou  think,  Jbr  that  I  insinuate  or  toze — " 

P.  402. 
"  Dost  thou  think,  for  that  I  insinuate  and  toze — " 

P.  231. 

21.  "  You  might  have  spoke  a  thousand  things, — "     P.  414. 
"  You  might  have  spoken  a  thousand  things, — "  P.  235. 

22.  "  Where  we  offend  her  nolo,  appear — "     P.  417. 
"  Where  we  offenders  now  appear — "     P.  237. 

23.  "  Once  more  to  look  on. 

"  Sir,  by  his  command, — "     P.  420. 
**  Once  more  to  look  on  him. 
"  By  his  command, — "    P.  240. 

24.  " like  a  weather-beaten  conduit.''*     P.  425. 

" like  a  weather-bitten  conduit."     P.  246. 

25.  " This  your  son-in-law, 

"  And  son  unto  the  king,  who,  heavens  directing, 
"  Is  troth-plight  to  your  daughter."     P.  437. 

" This  your  son-in-law, 

<r  And  son  unto  the  king,  [whom  heavens  directing,) 
"  Is  troth-plight  to  your  daughter."     P.  257. 

KING   JOHN. 

1.  "  Which  fault  lies  on  the  hazard  of  all  husbands."    P.  10. 
"  Which  fault  lies  on  the  hazards  of  all  husbands.'' 

P.  451. 

2.  "  'Tis  too  respective,  and  too  sociable, 
"  For  your  conversing."     P.  14. 

"  'Tis  too  respective,  and  too  sociable, 
"  For  your  conversion."     P.  456. 

S.    "  Thus  leaning  on  my  elbow, — "     P.  16. 
"  Thus  leaning  on  mine  elbow,—"     P.  457. 

4.  "  With  them  a  bastard  of  the  king  deceas,d.,>     P.  25. 

"  With  them  a  bastard  of  the  king's  deceas'd."     P.  464. 

5.  "  That  thou  hast  under-wrought  its  lawful  king.**    P.  26. 
"  That  thou  hast  under-wrought  his  lawful  king." 

P.  465. 

6.  "  Say,  shall  the  current  of  our  right  run  on  ?"     P.  37. 

"  Say,  shall  the  current  of  our  right  roam  on  ?"    P.  476. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         473 

press,9  the  reader  is  apprized  by  a  note ;  and  every 

7.  "  And  now  he  feasts,  mouthing  the  jlesh  of  men, " 

P.  38. 

"  And  now  he  feasts,  mousing  the  flesh  of  men, " 

P.  477. 

8.  "  A  greater  power  than  ye — "     P.  39. 

"  A  greater  power  than  we — "     P.  478. 


•  That  I  may  be  accurately  understood,  I  subjoin  a  few  of 
these  unnoticed  corrections : 

la  KingHenry  VI.  P.  I.  Act  I.  sc.  vi  j 

"  Thy  promises  are  like  Adonis'  gardens, 
"  That  one  day  bloom'd,  and  fruitful  were  the  next." 
The  old  copy  reads — garden. 
In  King  John,  Act  IV.  sc.  ii : 

" that  close  aspect  of  his 

"  Does  shew  the  mood  of  a  much-troubled  breast." 
The  old  copy  reads — Do. 
Ibidem,  Act  I.  sc.  i: 

"  Tu  too  respective,  and  too  sociable,"  4c. 
The  old  copy, — 'Tis  two  respective,"  &c. 
Again,  in  the  same  play,  we  find  in  the  original  copy : 

"  Against  the  inuoiuerabie  clouds  of  heaven." 
In  King  Henry  V.  Act  V.  sc.  ii : 

"  Corrupting  in  its  own  fertility." 
The  old  copy  reads — it. 

In  Timon  of  Athens,  Act  I.  sc.  i: 
"  Come,  shall  we  in  V 
The  old  copy  has — Comes. 

Ibidem :  "  Even  on  their  knees,  and  hands, — ." 
The  old  copy  has — hand. 

In  Cymbeline,  Act  III.  sc.  iv : 

"  The  handmaids  of  all  women,  or,  more  truly, 
**  Woman  its  pretty  self." 
The  old  copy  has — it. 

It  cannot  be  expected  that  the  page  should  be  encumbered  with 
the  notice  of  such  obvious  mistakes  of  the  press  as  ore  here  enu- 
merated. With  the  exception  of  errors  such  as  these,  whenever 
any  emendation  has  been  adopted,  it  is  mentioned  in  a  note,  and 
ascribed  to  its  author. 


474         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

emendation  that  has  been  adopted,  is  ascribed  to 
its  .proper  author.      When  it  is  considered  that 


9.    '*  For  grief  is  proud,  and  makes  his  owner  stoop."  P.  52. 
"  For  grief  is  proud,  and  makes  his  owner  stout." 

P.  492. 

10.  "  0,  that  a  man  would  speak  these  words  to  me  /" 

P.  52. 
"  O,  that  a  man  should  speak  these  words  to  me !" 

P.  497. 

11.  "  Is't  not  amiss,  when  it  is  truly  done?"     P.  64. 
"  Is  not  amiss,  when  it  is  truly  done."     P.  504. 

12.  "  Then,  in  despight  o/"broad-ey'd  watchful  day, — " 

P.  72. 
"  Then,  in  despight  of  brooded  watchful  day, — " 

P.  512. 

13.  "A  whole  armado  of  collected  sail."     P.  74. 
"  A  whole  armado  of  convicted  sail."     P.  514. 

14.  "  And  bitter  shame  hath  spoiVd  the  sweet  world's  taste." 

P.  79. 
"  And  bitter  shame  hath  spoil'd  the  sweet  word's  taste." 

P.  519. 

15.  "  Strong  reasons  make  strong  actions."*     P.  81. 

"  Strong  reasons  make  strange  actions."     P.  522. 

16.  "  Must  make  a  stand  at  what  your  highness  will." 

P.  89. 
"  Doth  make  a  stand  at  what  your  highness  will." 

P.  530. 

17.  "  Had  none,  my  lord!  why,  did  not  you  provoke  meV 

P.  96. 
"  Had  none,  my  lord !  why,  did  you  not  provoke  me  ?" 

P.  536. 

18.  "  Mad'st  it  no  conscience  to  destroy  a  king."     P.  97. 

"  Made  it  no  conscience  to  destroy  a  king."     P.  537. 

19.  "  Sir,  sir,  impatience  has  its  privilege  ."     P.  102. 
**  Sir,  sir,  impatience  has  his  privilege."     P.  541. 

20.  "  Or,  when  he  doom'd  this  beauty  to  the  grave, — " 

P.  102. 
"  Or,  when  he  doom'd  this  beauty  to  a  grave, — " 

P.  541. 


MR.  MALOXE'S  PREFACE.  475 

there   are   one  hundred  thousand  lines  in  these 
plays,  and  that  it  often  was  necessary  to  consult 

21.  "  To  the  yet-unbegotten  sins  o/time."     P.  102. 
"  To  the  yet-unbegotten  sin  of  timet."     P.  541. 

22.  "  And  breathing  to  this  breathless  excellence,—"   P.  102. 
"  And  breathing  to  Aw  breathless  excellence, — " 

P.  542. 

23.  "  And  your  supplies,  which  you  have  wish'd  to  long, " 

*     i  P-  I21« 

"  And  your  supply,  which  you  have  wish'd  so  long,—" 

P.  561. 

24.  "  W hat's  that  to  thee?  Why  may  I  not  demand—" 

P.  122. 

<l  AN  hat's  that  to  thee?  Why  may  not  I  demand " 

P.  562. 
Y5.    "  0,  my  siveet  sir,  news  fitted  to  the  night"     P.  123. 
"  O,  my  sweet  sir,  new*  Jitting  to  the  night."     1*.  563. 

26.  "  Death,  having  prey'd  upon  the  outward  parts, 
"  Leaves  them;  invisible  his  siege  is  now 

"  Against  the  mind,—"     P.  124. 
"  Death,  having  prey'd  upon  the  outward  parts, 
"  Leaves  them  invisible  ;  and  his  siege  is  now 
"  Against  the  mind, — "     P.  565. 

27.  "  The  salt  of  them  is  hot."     P.  125. 
"  The  salt  in  them  is  hot."     P.  568. 

Two  other  restorations  in  this  play  I  have  not  set  down: 
"  Before  we  will  lay  down  our  just-borne  arms — " 
and —  ActII.sc.  ii. 

"  Be  these  sad  signs  confirmers  of  thy  word." 

Act  III.  sc  i. 

because  I  pointed  them  out  on  a  former  occasion. 

It  may  perhaps  he  urged  that  some  of  the  variations  in  these 
lists,  are  of  no  great  consequence;  but  to  preserve  our  poet's 
genuine  text  is  certainly  important  ;  for  otherwise,  as  Dr.  John- 
son has  justly  observed,  M  the  history  of  our  language  will  be 
lost ;"  and  as  our  poet's  words  are  changed,  we  are  constantly  in 
danger  of  losing  his  meaning  also.  Every  reader  must  wi»h  to 
peruse  what  Sbakapeare  wrote,  supported  at  once  by  the  autho- 
rity of  the  authentick  copies,  and  the  usage  of  his  contempora- 
ries, rather  than  what  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  or  Pope,  or 
H.imncr,  or  Warburton,  have  arbitrarily  substituted  in  its  place. 


476        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

six  or  seven  volumes,  in  order  to  ascertain  by 
which  of  the  preceding  editors,  from  the  time  of 
the  publication  of  the  second  folio,  each  emenda- 
tion was  made,  it  will  easily  be  believed,  that  this 
was  not  effected  without  much  trouble. 

Whenever  I  mention  the  old  copy  in  my  notes, 
if  the  play  be  one  originally  printed  in  quarto,  I 
mean  the  first  quarto  copy ;  if  the  play  appeared 
originally  in  folio,  I  mean  the  first  folio ;  and  when 
I  mention  the  old  copies,  I  mean  the  first  quarto  and 
first  folio,  which,  when  that  expression  is  used,  it 
may  be  concluded,  concur  in  the  same  reading. 
In  like  manner,  the  folio  always  means  the  first 
folio,  and  the  quarto^  the  earliest  quarto,  with  the 
exceptions  already  mentioned.  In  general,  how- 
ever, the  date  of  each  quarto  is  given,  when  it  is 
cited.  Where  there  are  two  quarto  copies  printed 
in  the  same  year,  they  are  particularly  distinguish- 
ed, and  the  variations  noticed. 

The  two  great  duties  of  an  editor  are,  to  exhibit 
the  genuine  text  of  his  author,  and  to  explain  his 
obscurities.  Both  of  these  objects  have  been  so 
constantly  before  my  eyes,  that,  I  am  confident, 
one  of  them  will  not  be  found  to  have  been  neg- 
lected for  the  other.  I  can  with  perfect  truth  say, 
with  Dr.  Johnson,  that  "  not  a  single  passage  in 
the  whole  work  has  appeared  to  me  obscure,  which 
I  have  not  endeavoured  to  illustrate."  I  have  ex- 
amined the  notes  of  all  the  editors,  and  my  own 


Let  me  not,  however,  be  misunderstood.  All  these  variations 
have  not  been  discovered  by  the  present  collation,  some  of  them 
having  been  pointed  out  by  preceding  editors;  but  such  as  had 
been  already  noticed  were  merely  pointed  out:  the  original 
readings  are  now  established  and  supported  by  the  usage  of  our 
poet  himself  and  that  of  his  contemporaries,  and  restored  to  the 
text,  instead  of  being  degraded  to  the  bottom  of  the  page. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        477 

former  remarks,  with  equal  rigour ;  and  have  en- 
deavoured as  much  as  possible  to  avoid  all  contro- 
versy, having  constantly  had  in  view  a  philanthro- 
pick  observation  made  by  the  editor  above  men- 
tioned :  "  I  know  not  (says  that  excellent  writer,) 
why  our  editors  should,  wit  h  such  implacable  anger, 
persecute  their  predecessors.  OJ  vtxpo)  pj  xdxa™,  the 
dead,  it  is  true,  can  make  no  resistance,  they  may 
be  attacked  with  great  security ;  but  since  they 
can  neither  feel  nor  mend,  the  safety  of  mauling 
them  seems  greater  than  the  pleasure :  nor  perhaps 
would  it  much  misbeseem  us  to  remember,  amidst 
our  triumphs  over  the  nonsensical  and  the  senseless, 
that  we  likewise  are  men ;  that  debemur  morti,  and, 
as  Swift  observed  to  Burnet,  shall  soon  be  among 
the  dead  ourselves." 

I  have  in  general  given  the  true  explication  of 
a  passage,  by  whomsoever  made,  without  loading 
the  page  with  the  preceding  unsuccessful  attempts 
at  elucidation,  and  by  this  means  have  obtained 
room  for  much  additional  illustration :  for,  as  on 
the  one  hand,  I  trust  very  few  superfluous  or  un- 
necessary annotations  have  been  admitted,  so  on 
the  other,  I  believe,  that  not  a  single  valuable  ex- 
plication of  any  obscure  passage  in  these  plays  has 
ever  appeared,  which  will  not  be  found  in  tlie  fol- 
lowing volumes. 

The  admirers  of  this  poet  will,  I  trust,  not 
merely  pardon  the  great  accession  of  new  notes  in 
the  present  edition,  but  examine  them  with  some 
degree  of  pleasure.  An  idle  notion  has  been  pro- 
pagated, that  Shakspeare  has  been  buried  under  his 
commentators ;  and  it  has  again  and  again  been  re- 
peated by  the  tasteless  and  the  dull,  "  that  notes 
though  often  necessary,  are  necessary  evils."  There 
is  no  person,  I  believe,  who  lias  an  higher  respect 


478         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

for  the  authority  of  Dr.  Johnson  than  I  have  ;  but 
he  has  been  misunderstood,  or  misrepresented,  as 
if  these  words  contained  a  general  caution  to  all  the 
readers  of  this  poet.  Dr.  Johnson,  in  the  part  of 
his  preface  here  alluded  to,  is  addressing  the  young 
reader,  to  whom  Shakspeare  is  new;  and  him  he 
very  judiciously  counsels  to  "  read  every  play  from 
the  first  scene  to  the  last,  with  utter  negligence  of 
all  his  commentators. — Let  him  read  on,  through 
brightness  and  obscurity,  through  integrity  and 
corruption  ;  let  him  preserve  his  comprehension  of 
the  dialogue,  and  his  interest  in  the  fable."  But 
to  much  the  greater  and  more  enlightened  part  of 
his  readers,  (for  how  few  are  there  comparatively 
to  whom  Shakspeare  is  new  ?)  he  gives  a  very  dif- 
ferent advice  :  Let  them  to  whom  the  pleasures  of 
novelty  have  ceased, "  attempt  exactness,  and  read 
the  commentators." 

During  the  era  of  conjectural  criticism  and  ca- 
pricious innovation,  notes  were  indeed  evils ;  while 
one  page  was  covered  with  ingenious  sophistry  in 
support  of  some  idle  conjecture,  and  another  was 
wasted  in  its  overthrow,  or  in  erecting  a  new 
fabrick  equally  unsubstantial  as  the  former.  But 
this  era  is  now  happily  past  away ;  and  conjecture 
and  emendation  have  given  place  to  rational  ex- 
planation. We  shall  never,  I  hope,  again  be  told, 
that  "  as  the  best  guesser  was  the  best  diviner,  so 
he  may  be  said  in  some  measure  to  be  the  best 
editor  of  Shakspeare."1  Let  me  not,  however,  be 
supposed  an  enemy  to  all  conjectural  emendation  ; 
sometimes  undoubtedly  we  must  have  recourse  to 
it ;  but,  like  the  machinery  of  the  ancient  drama, 
let  it  not  be  resorted  to  except  in  cases  of  difficulty ; 

1  Newton's  Preface  to  his  edition  of  Milton. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         479 

nisi  dignus  vindici  nodus.  "  I  wish  (says  Dr.  John- 
son) we  all  conjectured  less,  and  explained  more." 
When  our  poet's  entire  library  shall  have  been  dis- 
covered, and  the  fables  of  all  his  plays  traced  to 
their  original  source,  when  every  temporary  allusion 
shall  have  been  pointed  out,  and  every  obscurity 
elucidated,  then,  and  not  till  then,  let  tne  accumu- 
lation of  notes  be  complained  of.  I  scarcely  re- 
member ever  to  have  looked  into  a  book  of  the 
age  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  which  I  did  not  find 
somewhat  that  tended  to  throw  a  light  on  these 
plays.  While  our  object  is,  to  support  and  esta- 
blish what  the  poet  wrote,  to  illustrate  his  phrase- 
ology by  comparing  it  with  that  of  his  contempo- 
raries, and  to  explain  his  fugitive  allusions  to 
customs  long  since  disused  and  forgotten,  while 
this  object  is  kept  steadily  in  view,  if  even  every 
line  of  his  plays  were  accompanied  with  a  com- 
ment, every  intelligent  reader  would  be  indebted 
to  the  industry  of  him  who  produced  it.  Such 
uniformly  has  been  the  object  of  the  notes  now 
presented  to  the  publick.  Let  us  then  hear  no 
more  of  this  barbarous  jargon  concerning  Shak- 
speare's  having  been  elucidated  into  obscurity,  and 
buried  under  the  load  of  his  commentator^.  1  >ryden 
is  said  to  have  regretted  the  success  of  his  own  in- 
structions, and  to  have  lamented  that  at  length, 
in  consequence  of  his  critical  prefaces,  the  town 
had  become  too  skilful  to  be  easily  satisfied.  The 
same  observation  may  be  made  with  respect  to 
many  of  these  objectors,  to  whom  the  meaning 
of  some  of  our  poet's  most  difficult  passages  is  now 
become  so  familiar,  that  they  fancy  they  originally 
understood  them  "  without  a  prompter  ;"  and  with 
great  gravity  exclaim  against  the  unnecessary  illus- 
trations furnished  by  his  Editors:  nor  ought  we 


480         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

much  to  wonder  at  this  ;  for  our  poet  himself  has 
told  us, 

'tis  a  common  proof, 


**  That  lowliness  is  young  ambition's  ladder, 
"  Whereto  the  climber  upward  turns  his  face  ; 
"  But  when  he  once  attains  the  upmost  round, 
"  He  then  unto  the  ladder  turns  his  back ; 
"  Looks  in  the  clouds."— 

I  have  constantly  made  it  a  rule  in  revising  the 
notes  of  former  editors,  to  compare  such  passages 
as  they  have  cited  from  any  author,  with  the  book 
from  which  the  extract  was  taken,  if  I  could  pro- 
cure it ;  by  which  some  inaccuracies  have  been 
rectified.  The  incorrect  extract  made  by  Dr. 
Warburton  from  Saviola's  treatise  on  Honour  and 
Honourable  Quarrels,  to  illustrate  a  passage  in  As 
you  like  it,  fully  proves  the  propriety  of  such  a  col- 
lation. 

At  the  end  of  the  tenth  volume  I  have  added 
an  Appendix,  containing  corrections,  and  supple- 
mental observations,  made  too  late  to  be  annexed 
to  the  plays  to  which  they  belong.  Some  object 
to  an  Appendix;  but  in  my  opinion,  with  very 
little  reason.  No  book  can  be  the  worse  for  such 
a  supplement;  since  the  reader,  if  such  be  his 
caprice, need  not  examine  it.  If  the  objector  means, 
that  he  wishes  that  all  the  information  contained 
in  an  Appendix,  were  properly  disposed  in  the 
preceding  volumes,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that 
such  an  arrangement  would  be  extremely  desirable : 
but  as  well  might  he  require  from  the  elephant 
the  sprightliness  and  agility  of  the  squirrel,  or 
from  the  squirrel  the  wisdom  and  strength  of  the 
elephant,  as  expect, that  an  editor's  latest  thoughts, 
suggested  by  discursive  reading  while  the  sheets 
that  compose  his  volumes  were  passing  through  the 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        481 

press,  should  form  a  part  of  his  original  work  ;  that 
information  acquired  too  late  to  be  employed  in  its 
proper  place,  should  yet  be  found  there. 

That  the  very  few  stage-directions  which  the  old 
copies  exhibit,  were  not  taken  from  our  author's 
manuscripts,  but  furnished  by  the  players,is  proved 
by  one  in  Macbeth,  Act  IV.'sc.  i.  where  "  A  show 
of  eight  kings"  is  directed,  "  and  Ban  quo  fast,  with 
a  glass  in  his  hand;'*  though  from  the  very  words 
which  the  poet  has  written  for  Macbeth,  it  is 
manifest  that  the  glass  ought  to  be  borne  by  the 
eighth  kings  a»d  n°t  by  Banquo.  All  the  stage- 
directions  therefore  throughout  this  work  I  li 
considered  as  wholly  in  my  power,  and  have  regu- 
lated them  in  the  best  manner  I  could.  The  reader 
will  also,  I  think,  be  pleased  to  find  the  place  in 
which  every  scene  is  supposed  to  pass,  precisely 
ascertained  :  a  species  of  information,  for  which, 
though  it  often  throws  light  on  the  dialogue,  we 
look  in  vain  in  the  ancient  copies,  and  which  has 
been  too  much  neglected  by  the  modern  editors. 

The  play  of  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre,  which  is 
now  once  more  restored  to  our  author,  I  originally 
intended  to  have  subjoined,  with  Titus  Andronicus, 
to  the  tenth  volume;  but,  to  preserve  an  equality 
of  size  in  my  volumes,  have  been  obliged  to  give 
it  a  different  place.  The  hand  of  Shakspeare  being 
indubitably  found  in  that  piece,  it  will,  I  doubt 
not,  be  considered  as  a  valuable  accession ;  and  it 
is  of  little  consequence  where  it  appears. 

It  has  long  been  thought,  that  Titus  Andronicus 
was  not  written  originally  by  Shakspeare ;  about 
seventy  years  after  lu^  death,  Ravenscroft  having 
mentioned  that  he  had  been  "  told  by  some  an- 
ciently conversant  with  the  stage,  that  our  poet 
only  gave  some  master-touches  to  one  or  two  of  the 

vol..  i.  1 1 


482         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

principal  parts  or  characters."  The  very  curious 
papers  lately  discovered  in  Dulwich  College,  from 
which  large  extracts  are  given  at  the  end  of  the 
History  of  the  Stage,  prove,  what  I  long  since  sus- 
pected, that  this  play,  and  The  First  Part  of  King 
Henry  VI.  were  in  possession  of  the  scene  when 
Shakspeare  began  to  write  for  the  stage  ;  and  the 
same  manuscripts  show,  that  it  was  then  very  com- 
mon for  a  dramatick  poet  to  alter  and  amend  the 
work  of  a  preceding  writer.  The  question  there- 
fore is  now  decisively  settled ;  and  undoubtedly 
some  additions  were  made  to  both  these  pieces  by 
Shakspeare.  It  is  observable  that  the  second  scene 
of  the  third  act  of  Titus  Andronicus,  is  not  found 
in  the  quarto  copy  printed  in  161 1.  It  is  there- 
fore highly  probable,  that  this  scene  was  added  by 
our  author ;  and  his  hand  may  be  traced  in  the 
preceding  act,  as  well  as  in  a  few  other  places.3 
The  additions  which  he  made  to  Pericles  are  much 
more  numerous,  and  therefore  more  strongly  en- 
title it  to  a  place  among  the  dramatick  pieces 
which  he  has  adorned  by  his  pen. 

With  respect  to  the  other  contested  plays,  Sir 
John  Oldcastle,  The  London  Prodigal,  $c.  which 
have  now  for  near  two  centuries  been  falsely 
ascribed  to  our  author,  the  manuscripts  above 
mentioned  completely  clear  him  from  that  impu- 
tation ;  and  prove,  that  while  his  great  modesty 
made  him  set  but  little  value  on  his  own  inimitable 
productions,  he  could  patiently  endure  to  have  the 
miserable  trash  of  other  writers  publickly  imputed 
to  him,  without  taking  any  measure  to  vindicate 


*  If  ever  the  account-book  of  Mr.  Heminge  shall  be  discovered, 
we  shall  probably  find  in  it — "  Paid  to  William  Shakspeare  for 
mending  Titus  Andronicus."     See  Vol.  III. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        483 

his  fame.  Sir  John  Oklcastle,  we  find  from  indu- 
bitable evidence,  though  ascribed  in  the  title-page 
to  "  William  Shakspeare,"  and  printed  in  the  year 
1600,  when  his  fame  was  in  its  meridian,  was  the 
joint-production  of  four  other  poets  ;  Michael 
Drayton,  Anthony  Mundy,  Richard  Hathwaye, 
and  Robert  Wilson.3 

In  the  Dissertation  annexed  to  the  three  parts 
of  King  Henry  the  Sixth,  I  have  discussed  at  large 
the  question  concerning  their  authenticity;  and 
have  assigned  my  reasons  for  thinking  that  the  se- 
cond and  third  of  those  plays  were  formed  by  Shak- 
speare, on  two  elder  dramas  now  extant.  Any  dis- 
quisition therefore  concerning  these  controverted 
pieces  is  here  unnecessary. 

Some  years  ago  I  published  a  short  Essay  on  tl>e 
economy  and  usages  of  our  old  theatres.  The 
Historical  Account  of  the  English  Stage,  which 
has  been  formed  on  that  essay,  has  swelled  to  such 
a  size,  in  consequence  of  various  researches  since 
made,  and  a  great  accession  of  very  valuable  ma- 
terials, that  it  is  become  almost  a  new  work.  Of 
these,  the  most  important  are  the  curious  papen 
which  have  been  discovered  at  Dulwich,  and  the 
very  valuable  Office-book  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert, 
Master  of  the  Revels  to  King  James  and  King 
Charles  the  First,  which  have  contributed  to  throw 
much  light  on  our  dramatick  history,  and  furnish* 
ed  some  singular  anecdotes  of  the  poets  of  those 
times. 

Twelve  years  have  elapsed  since  the  Essay  on  the 
order  of  time  in  which  the  ph^s  <><  Shakspeare 
were  written,  first  appeared.  A  re-examination  of 
these  plays  since  that  time  lias  furnished  me  with 

»  Vol.  Ill      Addition*. 

I  I  '-' 


484        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

several  particulars  in  confirmation  of  what  I  had 
formerly  suggested  on  this  subject.  On  a  careful 
revisal  of  that  Essay,  which,  I  hope,  is  improved 
as  well  as  considerably  enlarged,  I  had  the  satis- 
faction of  observing  that  I  had  found  reason  to  at- 
tribute but  two  plays  to  an  era  widely  distant  from 
that  to  which  they  had  been  originally  ascribed ; 
and  to  make  only  a  minute  change  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  a  few  others.  Some  information,  however, 
which  has  been  obtained  since  that  Essay  was  print- 
ed in  its  present  form,  inclines  me  to  think,  that 
one  of  the  two  plays  which  I  allude  to,  The  Win- 
ter's Tale,  was  a  still  later  production  than  I  have 
supposed ;  for  I  have  now  good  reason  to  believe, 
that  it  was  first  exhibited  in  the  year  1613 ;4  and. 
that  consequently  it  must  have  been  one  of  our 
poet's  latest  works. 

Though  above  a  century  and  a  half  has  elapsed 
since  the  death  of  Shakspeare,  it  is  somewhat  ex- 
traordinary, (as  I  observed  on  a  former  occasion,) 
that  none  of  his  various  editors  should  have  at- 
tempted to  separate  his  genuine  poetical  compo- 
sitions from  the  spurious  performances  with  which 
they  have  been  long  intermixed ;  or  have  taken 
the  trouble  to  compare  them  with  the  earliest  and 
most  au  then  tick  copies.  Shortly  after  his  death,  a* 
very  incorrect  impression  of  his  poems  was  issued 
out,  which  in  every  subsequent  edition,  previous 
to  the  year  1780,  was  implicitly  followed.  They 
have  been  carefully  revised,  and  with  many  addi- 
tional illustrations  are  now  a  second  time  faithfully 
printed  from  the  original  copies,  excepting  only 

4  See  Emendations  and  Additions,  Vol.  I.  Part  II.  p.  286, 
[i.  e.  Mr.  Malone*s  edition.] 

The  paragraph  alluded  to,  in  the  present  edition,  will  stand  in 
its  proper  place.     Steevens. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         485 

Venus  and  Adonis^  of  which  I  have  not  been  able 
to  procure  the  first  impression.  The  second  edi- 
tion, printed  in  1596,  was  obligingly  transmitted 
to  me  by  the  late  Reverend  Thomas  Warton,  of 
whose  friendly  and  valuable  correspondence  I  was 
deprived  by  death,  when  these  volumes  were  al- 
most ready  to  be  issued  from  the  press.  It  is 
painful  to  recollect  how  many  of  (I  had  almost 
said)  my  coadjutors  have  died  since  the  present 
work  was  begun : — the  elegant  scholar,  and  in- 
genious writer,  wjjom  I  have  just  mentioned  ;  Dr. 
Johnson,  and  Mr.  Tyrwhitt :  men,  from  whose 
approbation  of  my  labours  I  had  promised  myself 
much  pleasure,  and  whose  stamp  could  give  a  value 
and  currency  to  any  work. 

With  the  materials  which  I  have  been  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  obtain,  relative  to  our  poet,  his  kindred, 
and  friends,  it  would  not  have  been  difficult  to 
have  formed  a  new  Life  of  Shakspeare,  less  meagre 
and  imperfect  than  that  left  us  by  Mr.  Rowe :  but 
the  information  which  I  have  procured  having 
been  obtained  at  very  different  times,  it  is  neces- 
sarily dispersed,  partly  in  the  copious  notes  sub- 
joined to  Rowe's  Life,  and  partly  in  the  Historical 
Account  of  our  old  actors.  At  some  future  time 
I  hope  to  weave  the  whole  into  one  uniform  and 
connected  narrative. 

My  inquiries  having  been  carried  on  almost  to 
the  very  moment  of  publication,  some  circum- 
stances relative  to  our  poet  were  obtained  too  late 
to  be  introduced  into  any  part  of  the  present  work. 
Of  these  due  use  will  be  made  hereafter. 

The  prefaces  of  Theobald,  Hanmer,  and  War- 
burton,  I  have  not  retained,  because  they  appeared 
to  me  to  throw  no  light  on  our  author  or  his 
works  :  the  room  which  they  would  have  taken  up, 


486         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

will,  I  trust,  be  found  occupied  by  more  valuable 
matter. 

As  some  of  the  preceding  editors  have  justly 
been  condemned  for  innovation,  so  perhaps  (for 
of  objections  there  is  no  end,)  I  may  be  censured 
for  too  strict  an  adherence  to  the  ancient  copies.  I 
have  constantly  had  in  view  the  Roman  sentiment 
adopted  by  Dr.  Johnson,  that  "  it  is  more  honour- 
able to  save  a  citizen  than  to  destroy  an  enemy, " 
and,  like  him,  "  have  been  more  careful  to  protect 
than  to  attack." — "  I  do  not  wish  the  reader  to 
forget,  (says  the  same  writer,)  that  the  most  com- 
modious (and  he  might  have  added,  the  most  for- 
cible and  elegant,)  is  not  always  the  true  reading."5 
On  this  principle  I  have  uniformly  proceeded,  hav- 
ing resolved  never  to  deviate  from  the  authentick 
copies,  merely  because  the  phraseology  was  harsh 
or  uncommon.  Many  passages,  which  have  hereto- 
fore been  considered  as  corrupt,  and  are  now  sup- 
ported by  the  usage  of  contemporary  writers,  fully 
prove  the  propriety  of  this  caution.6 

*  King  Henry  IV.  Part  II. 

6  See  particularly  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  Vol.  VII.  p.  297 : 

" That  many  may  be  meant 

"  By  the  fool  multitude." 
with  the  note  there. 

We  undoubtedly  should  not  now  write— 

"  But,  lest  myself  be  guilty  to  self-wrong, — " 
yet  we  find  this  phrase  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors,  Act  III. 
Vol.  XX.     See  also  The  Winters  Tale,  Vol.  IX.  p.  420: 

" This  your  son-in-law, 

*'  And  son  unto  the  king,  (whom  heavens  directing,) 

"  Is  troth-plight  to  your  daughter.'' 
Measure  for  Measure,  Vol.  VI.  p.  358 :  t*  — to  be  so  bared, — ." 
Coriolanm,  Vol.  XVI.  p.  148,  n.  2i 

"  Which  often,  thus,  correcting  thy  stout  heart,"  &c. 
Hamlet,  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  40 : 

"  That  he  might  not  beteem  the  winds  of  heaven,"  &c. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        487 

The  rage  for  innovation  till  within  these  last 
thirty  years  was  so  great,  that  many  words  were 
dismissed  from  our  poet's  text,  which  in  his  time 
were  current  in  every  mouth.  In  all  the  editions 
since  that  of  Mr.  Rowe,  in  the  Second  Part  of  King 
Henry  IV.  the  word  channel"1  has  been  rejected, 
and  kennel  substituted  in  its  room,  though  the 
former  term  was  commonly  employed  in  the  same 
sense  in  the  time  of  our  author ;  and  the  learned 
Bishop  of  Worcester  has  strenuously  endeavoured 
to  prove  that  in  CymMine  the  poet  wrote — not 
shakes,  but  shuts  or  checks,  "  all  our  buds  from 
growing;"8  though  the  authenticity  of  the  original 
reading  is  established  beyond  all  controversy  by 
two  other  passages  of  ShaKspeare.  Very  soon,  in- 
deed, after  his  death,  this  rage  for  innovation  seems 
to  have  seized  his  editors;  tor  in  the  year  1616  an 
edition  of  his  Rape  of  Lucrcce  was  published, 
which  was  said  to  be  newly  rexised  and  coiTected; 
but  in  which,  in  fact,  several  arbitrary  changes 
were  made,  and  the  ancient  diction  rejected  for 
one  somewhat  more  modern.  Even  in  the  first 
complete  collection  of  his  plays  published  in  1623, 

As  you  like  it,  Vol.  VIII  p.  59,  n.  7 : 

*'  My  voice  is  ragged,         .'* 
Cymbeline,  Vol.  XVIII.  p.  647,  n.  2 : 

•«  Whom  heavens,  in  justice,  (both  on  her  and  here,) 

"  Have  laid  most  heavy  hand." 
7  Act  II.  kc.  i:  " — throw  the  quean  in  the  channel."  In 
that  passage,  as  in  many  others,  I  have  silently  restored  the  ori- 
ginal reading,  without  any  observation  ;  hut  the  word  in  this 
sense,  being  now  obsolete,  ibould  have  been  illustrated  by  a  not*. 
This  defect,  however,  will  be  found  remedied  in  A'.  Henry  VI. 
P.  II.  Act  II.SC    ii: 

"  As  if  a  channel  should  be  call'd  a  soa." 

1  Hurd's  Hon.  4th.  edit.  Vol.  I.  p.  55. 


488         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

some  changes  were  undoubtedly  made  from  igno- 
rance of  his  meaning  and  phraseology.    They  had, 
I  suppose,  been  made  in  the  playhouse  copies  after 
his  retirement  from  the  theatre.    Thus  in  Othello, 
Brabantio  is  made  to  call  to  his  domesticks  to  raise 
"  some  special  officers  of  might,*11  instead  of"  offi- 
cers of  night;"  and  the  phrase  "  of  all  loves,"  in 
the  same  play,  not  being  understood,  "for  love*s 
sake"  was  substituted  in  its  room.     So,  in  Hamlet, 
we  have  ere  ever  for  or  ever,  and  rites  instead  of 
the  more  ancient  word,  crants.      In  King  Lear, 
Act  I.  sc.  i.  the  substitution  of — "  Goes  thy  heart 
with  this?"    instead   of — "  Goes   this  with   thy 
heart  ?"  without  doubt  arose  from  the  same  cause. 
In  the  plays  of  which  we  have  no  quarto  copies, 
we    may  be  sure   that  similar  innovations  were 
made,  though  we  have  now  no  certain  means  of 
detecting  them. 

After  what  has  been  proved  concerning  the 
sophistications  and  corruptions  of  the  Second 
Folio,  we  cannot  be  surprized  that  when  these 
plays  were  republished  by  Mr.  Rowe  in  the  begin- 
ning of  this  century  from  a  later  folio,  in  which 
the  interpolations  of  the  former  were  all  preserved, 
and  many  new  errors  added,  almost  every  page  of 
his  work  was  disfigured  by  accumulated  corrup- 
tions. In  Mr.  Pope's  edition  our  author  was  not 
less  misrepresented  ;  for  though  by  examining  the 
oldest  copies  he  detected  some  errors,  by  his  nu- 
merous fanciful  alterations  the  poet  was  so  com- 
pletely modernized,  that  I  am  confident,  had  he 
"  re-visited  the  glimpses  of  the  moon,"  he  would 
not  have  understood  his  own  works.  From  the 
quartos  indeed  a  few  valuable  restorations  were 
made;  but  all  the  advantage  that  was  thus  obtained, 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         489 

was  outweighed  by  arbitrary  changes,  transposi- 
tions, and  interpolations. 

The  readers  of  Shakspeare  being  disgusted  with 
the  liberties  taken  by  Mr.  Pope,  the  subsequent 
edition  of  Theobald  was  justly  preferred  ;  because 
he  professed  to  adhere  to  the  ancient  copies  more 
strictly  than  his  competitor,  and  illustrated  a  few 
passages  by  extracts  from  the  writers  of  our  poet's 
age.  That  his  work  should  at  this  day  be  con- 
sidered of  any  value,  only  shows  how  long  impres- 
sions will  remain,  when  they  are  once  made ;  for 
Theobald,  though  not  so  great  an  innovator  as 
Pope,  was  yet  a  considerable  innovator ;  and  his 
edition  being  printed  from  that  of  his  immediate 
predecessor,  while  a  few  arbitrary  changes  made 
by  Pope  were  detected,  innumerable  sophistica- 
tions were  silently  adopted.  His  knowledge  of 
the  contemporary  authors  was  so  scanty,  that  all 
the  illustration  of  that  kind  dispersed  throughout 
his  volumes,  has  been  exceeded  by  the  researches 
which  have  since  been  made  for  the  purpose  of 
elucidating  a  single  play. 

Of  Sir  Thomas  Hantner  it  is  only  necessary  to 
say,  that  he  adopted  almost  all  the  innovations  of 
Pope,  adding  to  them  whatever  caprice  dictated. 

To  him  succeeded  Dr.  Warburton,  a  critick, 
who  (as  hath  been  said  of  Salsnasius)  seems  to  have 
erected  his  throne  on  a  heap  of  stones,  that  he 
might  have  them  at  hand  to  throw  at  the  heads  of 
all  those  who  passed  by.  His  unbounded  licence 
in  substituting  his  own  chimerical  conceits  in  the 
place  of  the  author's  genuine  text,  has  been  so 
Fully  shown  by  his  revisers,  that  I  suppose  DO  cri- 
tical reader  will  ever  again  open  his  volumes.  An 
hundred  strappadoes,  according  to  an  Italian  co- 
mick  writer,  would  not  have  induced  Petrarch, 


490         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

were  he  living,  to  subscribe  to  the  meaning  which 
certain  commentators  after  his  death  had  by  their 
glosses  extorted  from  his  works.  It  is  a  curious 
speculation  to  consider  how  many  thousand  would 
have  been  requisite  for  this  editor  to  have  inflicted 
on  our  great  dramatick  poet  for  the  same  purpose. 
The  defence  which  has  been  made  for  Dr.*  War- 
burton  on  this  subject,  by  some  of  his  friends,  is 
singular.  "  He  well  knew,"  it  has  been  said, 
**  that  much  the  greater  part  of  his  notes  do  not 
throw  any  light  on  the  poet  of  whose  works  he 
undertook  the  revision,  and  that  he  frequently  im- 
puted to  Shakspeare  a  meaning  of  which  he  never 
thought ;  but  the  editor's  great  object  was  to  dis- 
play his  own  learning,  not  to  illustrate  his  author, 
and  this  end  he  obtained ;  for  in  spite  of  all  the 
clamour  against  him,  his  work  added  to  his  reputa- 
tion as  a  scholar." — Be  it  so  then ;  but  let  none  of 
his  admirers  ever  dare  to  unite  his  name  with  that 
of  Shakspeare ;  and  let  us  at  least  be  allowed  to 
wonder,  that  the  learned  editor  should  have  had 
so  little  respect  for  the  greatest  poet  that  has 
appeared  since  the  days  of  Homer,  as  to  use  a 
commentary  on  his  works  merely  as  "  a  stalking- 
horse,  under  the  presentation  of  which  he  might 
shoot  his  wit." 

At  length  the  task  of  revising  these  plays  was 
undertaken  by  one,  whose  extraordinary  powers  of 
mind,  as  they  rendered  him  the  admiration  of  his 
contemporaries,  will  transmit  his  name  to  posterity 
as  the  brightest  ornament  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury ;  and  will  transmit  it  without  competition,  if 
we  except  a  great  orator,  philosopher,  and  states- 
man,9 now  living,  whose  talents  and  virtues  are 

9  The  Right  Honourable  Edmund  Burke. 


MR.  MALONES  PREFACE.         491 

an  honour  to  human  nature.  In  1765,  Dr.  Johnson's 
edition,  which  had  long  been  impatiently  expected, 
was  given  to  the  publick.  His  admirable  preface, 
(perhaps  the  finest  composition  in  our  language,) 
his  happy,  and  in  general  just,  characters  of  these 
plays,  his  refutation  of  the  false  glosses  of  Theo- 
bald and  Warburton,  and  his  numerous  explica- 
tions of  involved  and  difficult  passages,  are  too  well 
known,  to  be  here  enlarged  upon  ;  and  therefore  I 
shall  only  add,  that  his  vigorous  and  comprehensive 
understanding  threw  more  light  on  his  author  than 
all  his  predecessors  had  done. 

In  one  observation,  however,  concerning  our 
poet,  I  do  not  entirely  concur  with  him.  "  It  is 
not  (he  remarks)  very  grateful  to  consider  how 
little  the  succession  of  editors  has  added  to  this 
author's  power  of  pleasing.  He  was  read,  admired, 
studied  and  imitated,  while  he  was  yet  deformed 
with  all  the  improprieties  which  ignorance  and 
neglect  could  accumulate  upon  him." 

He  certainly  was  read,  admired,  studied,  and 
imitated,  at  the  period  mentioned ;  but  surely  not 
in  the  same  degree  as  at  present.  The  succession 
of  editors  has  effected  this ;  it  has  made  him  under- 
stood; it  has  made  him  popular;  it  has  shown 
every  one  who  is  capable  of  reading,  how  much 
superior  he  is  not  only  to  Jonson  and  Fletcher, 
whom  the  bad  taste  of  the  last  a^e  from  the  time 
of  the  Restoration  to  the  end  of  the  Century  sot 
above  him,  but  to  all  the  dramatiek  poets  of  an- 
tiquity : 

-Jam  monte  potitua, 


"  Ridel  aohelantem  dura  ail  vestigia  turbam." 
Every  author  who  pleases  must  surely  |>! 


492         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

more  as  he  is  more  understood,  and  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  Shakspeare  is  now  infinitely  better  un- 
derstood than  he  was  in  the  last  century.  To  say 
nothing  of  the  people  at  large,  it  is  clear  that 
Dry  den  himself,  though  a  great  admirer  of  our 
poet,  and  D'Avenant,  though  he  wrote  for  the 
stage  in  the  year  1627,  did  not  always  understand 
him.1     The  very  books  which  are  necessary  to  our 

1  **  The  tongue  in  general  is  so  much  refined  since  Shakspeare's 
time,  that  many  of  his  words,  and  more  of  his  phrases,  are 
scarce  intelligible."  Preface  to  Dryden's  Troilus  and  Cressida. 
The  various  changes  made  by  Dryden  in  particular  passages  in 
that  play,  and  by  him  and  DWvenant  in  The  Tempest,  prove 
decisively  that  they  frequently  did  not  understand  our  poet's 
language. 

In  his  defence  of  the  Epilogue  to  The  Conquest  of  Granada, 
Dryden  arraigns  Ben  Jonson  for  using  the  personal,  instead  of 
the  neutral,  pronoun,  and  unfeard  for  unafraid: 

"  Though  heaven  should  speak  with  all  his  wrath  at  once, 
"  We  should  stand  upright,  and  unfeard." 

"■  His  (say6  he)  is  ill  syntax  with  heaven,  and  by  unfeard  he 
means  unafraid;  words  of  a  quite  contrary  signification. — He 
perpetually  uses  ports  for  gates,  which  is  an  affected  error  in  him, 
to  introduce  Latin  by  the  loss  of  the  English  idiom." 

Now  his  for  its,  however  ill  the  syntax  may  be,  was  the  com- 
mon language  of  the  time ;  and  to  fear,  in  the  sense  of  to  terrify, 
is  found  not  only  in  all  the  poets,  but  in  every  dictionary  of  that 
age.  With  respect  to  ports,  Shakspeare,  who  will  not  be  sus- 
pected of  affecting  Latinisms,  frequently  employs  that  word  in 
the  same  sense  as  Jonson  has  done,  and  as  probably  the  whole 
kingdom  did  ;  for  the  word  is  still  so  used  in  Scotland. 

D'Avenant's  alteration  of  Macbeth,  and  Measure  for  Measure, 
furnish  many  proofs  of  the  same  kind.  In  The  Laxv  against 
Lovers,  which  he  formed  on  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  and 
Measure  for  Measure,  are  these  lines : 

" nor  do  I  think, 

"  The  prince  has  true  discretion  who  affects  it." 

The  passage  imitated  is  in  Measure  for  Measure : 
"  Nor  do  I  think  the  man  of  safe  discretion, 
"  That  does  affect  it." 

If  our  poet's  language  had  been  well  understood,  the  epithet 
safe  would  not  have  been  rejected.     See  Othello : 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        493 

author's  illustration,  were  of  so  little  account  in 
their  time,  that  what  now  we  can  scarce  procure 
at  any  price,  was  then  the  furniture  of  the  nursery 
or  stall.3     In  fifty  years  after  our  poet's  death, 


"  My  blood  begins  my  safer  guides  to  rule  ; 
"  And  passion,  having  my  best  judgment  collied,"  Ac. 
So  also,  Edgar,  in  King  Lear  : 

"  The  safer  sense  will  ne'er  accommodate 
"  His  master  thus." 

*  The  price  of  books  at  different  periods  may  serve  in  some 
measure  to  ascertain  the  taste  and  particular  study  of  the  age.  At 
the  sale  of  Dr.  Francis  Bernard's  library  in  1(598,  the  following 
books  were  sold  at  the  annexed  prices : 

FOLIO. 

Gowerde  Confessione  A  mantis.        -         -         -        0     2    6 
Now  sold  for  two  guineas. 

Caxton's  Recueyll  of  the  Histories  of  Troy,  1502.  0    3    0 

Chronicle  of  England.      -         -         -         -  0*0 

Hall's  Chronicle. 0    6* 

Grafton's  Chronicle.        -         -         -         -         -  06  10 

Holinshed's  Chronicle,  1587.            -         -         -  1    10    6 
This  book  is  now  frequently  sold  for  ten  guineas. 

QUARTO. 

Turberville  on  hawking  and  hunting. 

Copley's  Wits,  Fits,  and  Fancies.      ... 

Puttenham's  Art  of  English  Poesie. 

This  book  is  now  usually  sold  for  a  guinea. 

Powell's  History  of  Wales.        - 

Painter's  second  tome  of  the  Palace  of  Pleasure. 

The  two  volumes  of  Painter's  Palace  of  Pleasure  are  now 
usually  sold  for  three  guineas. 

OCTAVO. 

Metamorphosis  of  Ajax,  by  Sir  John  Harrington.      0    0    * 


0 

0 

6 

0 

0 

+ 

0 

0 

ft 

0 

1 

B 

0 

0 

+ 

494        MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

Dryden  mentions  that  he  was  then  become  "  a 
little  obsolete.**  In  the  beginning  of  the  present 
century  Lord  Shaftesbury  complains  of  his  "  rude 
unpolished  stile,  and  his  antiquated  phrase  and 
wit;**  and  not  long  afterwards  Gildon  informs  us 
that  he  had  been  rejected  from  some  modern  collec- 
tions of  poetry  on  account  of  his  obsolete  language. 
Whence  could  these  representations  have  proceed - 
ed,but  because  our  poet,notbeingdiligently  studied, 
not  being  compared  with  the  contemporary  writers, 
was  not  understood  ?  If  he  had  been  "  read,  ad- 
mired, studied,  and  imitated,"  in  the  same  degree 
as  he  is  now,  the  enthusiasm  of  some  one  or  other 
of  his  admirers  in  the  last  age  would  have  induced 
him  to  make  some  enquiries  concerning  the  history 
of  his  theatrical  career,  and  the  anecdotes  of  his 
private  life.  But  no  such  person  was  found ;  no 
anxiety  in  the  publick  sought  out  any  particulars 
concerning  him  after  the  Restoration,  (if  we  except 
the  few  which  were  collected  by  Mr.  Aubrey ,)  though 
at  that  time  the  history  of  his  life  must  have  been 
known  to  many ;  for  his  sister  Joan  Hart,  who  must 
have  known  much  of  his  early  years,  did  not  die 
till  1646:  his  favourite  daughter,  Mrs.  Hall,  lived 
till  1649;  and  his  second  daughter,  Judith,  was 
living  at  Stratford-upon-Avon  in  the  beginning  of 
the  year  1 662.  His  grand-daughter,  Lady  Barnard, 
did  not  die  till  1670.  Mr.  Thomas.  Combe,  to 
whom  Shakspeare  bequeathed  his  sword,  survived 
our  poet  above  forty  years,  having  died  at  Stratford 
in  1657.  His  elder  brother,  William  Combe,  lived 
till  1667.  Sir  Richard  Bishop,  who  was  born  in 
1585,  lived  at  Bridgetown  near  Stratford  till  1672 ; 
and  his  son,  Sir  William  Bishop,  who  was  born  in 
1626,  died  there  in  1700.  From  all  these  per- 
sons without  doubt  many  circumstances  relative  to 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        495 

Shakspeare  might  have  been  obtained;  but  that 
was  an  age  as  deficient  in  literary  curiosity  as  in 
taste. 

It  is  remarkable  that  in  a  century  after  our  poet's 
death,  rive  editions  only  of  his  plays  were  publish- 
ed;  which  probably  consisted. of  not  more  than 
three  thousand  copies.  During  the  same  period 
three  editions  of  the  plays  of  Fletcher,  and  four 
of  those  of  Jonson  had  appeared.  On  the  other 
hand,  from  the  year  1716  to  the  present  time,  that 
is,  in  seventy-four  years,  but  two  editions  of  the 
former  writer,  and  one  of  the  latter,  have  been 
issued  from  the  press ;  while  above  thirty  thousand 
copies  of  Shakspeare  have  been  dispersed  through 
England.3  That  nearly  as  many  editions  of  the 
works  of  Jonson  as  of  Shakspeare  should  have  been 
demanded  in  the  last  century,  will  not  appear  sur- 
prising, when  we  recollect  what  Dryden  has  related 
soon  after  the  Restoration:  that  "  others  were  then 
generally  preferred  before  him."4  By  others  Jonson 

1  Notwithstanding  our  high  admiration  of  Shakspeare,  we  are 
yet  without  a  splendid  edition  of  his  works,  with  the  illustrations 
which  the  united  effort*  of  various  commentators  have  contri- 
huted ;  while  in  other  countries  the  most  brilliant  decorations 
have  been  lavished  on  their  distinguished  poets.  The  editions 
of  1'ope  and  Hanmer,  may,  with  almost  as  much  propriety,  be 
ealled  their  works,  as  those  of  Shakspeare ;  and  therefore  can 
have  no  claim  to  be  admitted  into  any  elegant  library.  Nor  will 
the  promised  edition,  with  engravings,  undertaken  by  Mr.  Aldtr- 
man  Hoydell,  remedy  this  defect,  for  it  is  not  to  be  accoinjuiued 
with  notes.  At  some  future,  and  no  very  distant  time,  1  mean 
to  furnish  the  puhlick  with  an  elegant  edition  in  quarto,  (with- 
out engravings,)  in  which  the  text  of  the  present  edition  shall  be 
followed,  with  the  illustrations  subjoined  in  the  same  \ 

4  In  the  year  1642,  whether  from  some  capricious  vicissitude 
in  the  publiek  taste,  or  from  a  general  inattention  to  the  drama, 
we  find  Shirley  complaining  that  few  came  to  see  our  author's 
performances  : 


496         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

and  Fletcher  were  meant.     To  attempt  to  show  to 
the  readers  of  the  present  day  the  absurdity  of 

«■ . You  see 


"  What  audience  we  have  :  ivhat  company 

"  To  Shakspeare  comes  ?  whose  mirth  did  once  beguile 

"  Dull  hours,  and  buskin'd  made  even  sorrow  smile ; 

«r  So  lovely  were  the  wounds,  that  men  would  say 

««  They  could  endure  the  bleeding  a  whole  day ; 

•'  He  has  but  few  friends  lately." 

Prologue  to  The  Sisters. 

"  Shakspeare  to  thee  was  dull,  whose  best  jest  lies 
"  I'th  lady's  questions,  and  the  fool's  replies; 
"  Old  fashion'd  wit,  which  walk'd  from  town  to  town, 
"  In  trunk-hose,  which  our  fathers  call'd  the  clown ; 
"  Whose  wit  our  nicer  times  would  obsceneness  call, 
M  And  which  made  bawdry  pass  for  comical. 
"  Nature  was  all  his  art ;  thy  vein  was  free 
**  As  his,  but  without  his  scurrility." 

Verses  on  Fletcher,  by  William  Cartwright, 
1647. 

After  the  Restoration,  on  the  revival  of  the  theatres,  the  plays 
of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  were  esteemed  so  much  superior  to 
those  of  our  author,  that  we  are  told  by  Dryden,  "  two  of  their 
pieces  were  acted  through  the  year,  for  one  of  Shakspeare's." 
If  his  testimony  needed  any  corroboration,  the  following  verses 
would  afford  it : 

"  In  our  old  plays,  the  humour,  love,  and  passion, 
"  Like  doublet,  hose,  and  cloak,  are  out  of  fashion ; 
"  That  which  the  world  call'd  wit  in  Shakspeare's  age, 
"  Is  laugh'd  at,  as  improper  for  our  stage." 

Prologue  to  Shirley's  Love  Tricks,  1667. 

"  At  every  shop,  while  Shakspeare'' s  lofty  stile 

"  Neglected  lies,  to  mice  and  worms  a  spoil, 

"  Gilt  oh  the  back,  just  smoking  from  the  press, 

"  The  apprentice  shews  you  D'Urfey's  Hudibras, 

"  Crown's  Mask,  bound  up  with  Settle's  choicest  labours, 

'*  And  promises  some  new  essay  of  Babor's." 

Satire,  published  in  1680. 

" against  old  as  well  as  new  to  rage, 

«*  Is  the  peculiar  frenzy  of  this  age. 

"  Shakspeare  must  down,  and  you  must  praise  no  more, 

"  Soft  Desdemona,  nor  the  jealous  Moor : 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        497 

such  a  preference,  would  be  an  insult  to  their  un- 
derstandings. When  we  endeavour  to  trace  any 
thing  like  a  ground  for  this  preposterous  taste,  we 
are  told  of  Fletcher's  ease,  and  Jonson's  learning. 
Of  how  little  use  his  learning  was  to  him,  an 
ingenious  writer  of  our  own  time  has  shown 
with  that  vigour  and  animation  for  which  he  was 
distinguished.  "  Jonson,  in  the  serious  drama,  is 
as  much  an  imitator,  as  Shakspeare  is  an  origin&L 
He  was  very  learned,  as  Sampson  was  very  strong, 
to  his  own  hurt.  Blind  to  the  nature  of  tragedy, 
he  pulled  down  all  antiquity  on  his  head,  and 
buried  himself  under  it.  We  see  nothing  of  Jon- 
son, nor  indeed  of  his  admired  (but  also  murdered) 
ancients  ;  for  what  shone  in  the  historian  \>  a  cloud 
on  the  poet,  and  Catiline  might  have  been  a  good 
play,  if  Sallust  had  never  written. 

"  Who  knows  whether  Shakspeare  might  not 
have  thought  less,  if  he  had  read  more  ?  Who 
knows  if  he  might  not  have  laboured  under  the 
load  of  Jonson's  learning,  as  Enceladus  under 
jEtna?  His  mighty  genius,  indeed,  through  the 
most  mountainous  oppression  would  have  breathed 

"  Shakspeare,  whose  fruitful  genius,  happy  wit, 
"  Was  tram'd  and  finish'd  at  a  lucky  hit, 
"  The  pride  of  nature,  and  the  shame  of  schools, 
"  Horn  to  create,  and  not  to  learn  from,  rules, 
"  Must  please  no  more  :  his  bastards  now  deride 
"  Their  father's  nakedness  they  ought  to  hide." 

Prologue  by  Sir  Charles  Scdley,  to  the  Wary  Widow, 
1693. 
To  the  honour  of  Margaret  Duchess  of  Newcastle  be  it  re- 
membered, that  however  fantastick  in  other  respects,  she  had 
taste  enough  to  be  fully  sensible  of  our  poet's  merit,  and  was 
one  of  the  first  who  utter  the  Restoration  published  a  ver\  high 
eulogy  on  him.     See  her  Sociable  Letter*,  folio,  1664,  p.  2f*. 

VOL.  I.  "K 


498        MR.  MALONES  PREFACE. 

out  some  of  his  inextinguishable  fire ;  yet  possibly 
he  might  not  have  risen  up  into  that  giant,  that 
much  more  than  common  man,  at  which  we  now 
gaze  with  amazement  and  delight.  Perhaps  he 
was  as  learned  as  his  dramatick  province  required  ; 
for  whatever  other  learning  he  wanted,  he  was 
master  of  two  books  unknown  to  many  of  the  pro- 
foundly read,  though  books  which  the  last  confla- 
gration alone  can  destroy ;  the  book  of  nature,  and 
that  of  man." 5  . 

To  this  and  the  other  encomiums  on  our  great 
poet  which  will  be  found  in  the  following  pages,  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  make  any  addition.  He  has 
justly  observed,  that 

"  To  guard  a  title  that  was  rich  before, 

v  To  gild  refined  gold,  or  paint  the  lily, 

"  To  throw  a  perfume  on  the  violet, 

**  To  smooth  the  ice,  or  add  another  hue 

"  Unto  the  rainbow,  or  with  taper-light 

"  To  seek  the  beauteous  eye  of  heaven  to  garnish, 

"  Is  wasteful  and  ridiculous  excess." 

Let  me,  however,  be  permitted  to  remark,  that 
beside  all  his  other  transcendent  merits,  he  was 
the  great  refiner  and  polisher  of  our  language. 
His  compound  epithets,  his  bold  metaphors,  the 
energy  of  his  expressions,  the  harmony  of  his 
numbers,  all  these  render  the  language  of  Shak- 
speare  one  of  his  principal  beauties.  Unfortunately 
none  of  his  letters,  or  other  prose  compositions, 
not  in  a  dramatick  form,  have  reached  posterity ; 
but  if  any  of  them  ever  shall  be  discovered,  they 
will,  I  am  confident,  exhibit  the  same  perspicuity, 

t  Conjectures  on  Original  Composition,  by  Dr  Edward  Young, 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.        49<J 

the  same  cadence,  the  same  elegance  and  vigour, 
which  we  find  in  his  plays.  *'  Words  and  phrases," 
says  Dryden,  "must  of  necessity  receive  a  change 
in  succeeding  ages ;  but  it  is  almost  a  miracle,  that 
much  of  his  language  remains  so  pure;  and  that 
he  who  began  dramatick  poetry  amongst  us,  un- 
taught by  any,  and,  as  Ben  Jonson  tells  us,  without 
learning,  should  by  the  force  of  his  own  genius 
perform  so  much,  that  in  a  manner  he  has  left  no 
praise  for  any  who  come  after  him." 

In  these  prefatdry  observations  my  principal  ob- 
ject was,  to  ascertain  the  true  state  and  respective 
value  of  the  ancient  copies,  and  to  mark  out  the 
course  which  has  been  pursued  in  the  edition  now 
offered  to  the  publick.  It  only  remains,  that  1 
should  return  my  very  sincere  acknowledgements  to 
those  gentlemen,  to  whose  good  offices  1  have  been 
indebted  in  the  progress  ot  my  work.  My  thanks 
are  particularly  due  to  Francis  Ingram,  of  Ribbis- 
ford  in  Worcestershire,  Esq.  for  the  very  valuable 
Office-book  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  and  several 
other  curious  papers,  which  formerly  belonged  to 
that  gentleman ;  to  Penn  Asheton  Curzon,Esq.  for 
the  use  of  the  very  rare  copy  of  King  Richard  III. 
printed  in  1 5lM  j  to  the  Master,  ami  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Smith,  librarian,  of  Dul wich College,  for  the  Manu- 
scripts relative  to  one  of  our  ancient  theatres, 
which  they  obligingly  transmitted  to  me;  to  John 
Kipling,  Esq.  keeper  of  the  rolls  in  Chancery,  who 
in  the  most  liberal  manner  directed  every  search  to 
be  made  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Rolls  that  1  should 
require,  with  a  view  to  illustrate  the  history  of  our 
poet's  life;  and  to  Mr.  Richard  (lark,  registrar  of 
the  diocese  of  Worcester,  who  with  equal  liberality, 
at  my  request,  made  many  searches  in  his  office  foi 


500         MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE. 

the  wills  of  various  persons.  I  am  also  in  a  par- 
ticular manner  indebted  to  the  kindness  and  atten- 
tion of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Davenport,  vicar  of  Strat- 
ford-upon-Avon, who  most  obligingly  made  every 
inquiry  in  that  town  and  the  neighbourhood,  which 
I  suggested  as  likely  to  throw  any  light  on  the  Life 
of  Shakspeare. 

I  deliver  my  book  to  the  world  not  without 
anxiety ;  conscious,  however,  that  I  have  strenu- 
ously endeavoured  to  render  it  not  unworthy  the 
attention  of  the  publick.  If  the  researches  which 
have  been  made  for  the  illustration  of  our  poet's 
works,  and  for  the  dissertations  which  accompany 
the  present  edition,  shall  afford  as  much  entertain- 
ment to  others,  as  I  have  derived  from  them,  I  shall 
consider  the  time  expended  on  it  as  well  employed. 
Of  the  dangerous  ground  on  which  I  tread,  I  am 
fully  sensible.  "  Multa  sunt  in  his  studiis  (to 
use  the  words  of  a  venerable  fellow-labourer6  in 
the  mines  of  Antiquity)  cineri  supposita,  doloso. 
Errata  possint  esse  multa  a  memoria.  Quis  enim 
in  memoriae  thesauro  omnia  simul  sic  complectatur, 
ut  pro  arbitratu  suo  possit  expromere  ?  Errata 
possint  esse  plura  ab  imperitia.  Quis  enim  tam 
peritus,  ut  in  caeco  hoc  antiquitatis  mari,  cum 
tempore  colluctatus,  scopulis  non  allidatur  ?  Haec 
tamen  a  te,  humanissime  lector,  tua  humanitas, 
mea  industria,  patriae  charitas,  et  Shakspeari  dig- 
nitas,  mihi  exorent,  ut  quid  mei  sit  judicii,  sine 
aliorum  praejudicio  libere  proferam  ;  ut  eadem  via 
qua  alii  in  his  studiis  solent,  insistam  ;  et  ut  erratis, 
si  ego  agnoscam,  tu  ignoscas."  Those  who  are 
the  warmest  admirers  of  our  great  poet,  and  most 

•  Camden. 


MR.  MALONE'S  PREFACE.         501 

conversant  with  his  writings,  best  know  the  diffi- 
culty of  such  a  work,  and  will  be  most  ready  to 
pardon  its  defects ;  remembering,  that  in  all  ardu- 
ous undertakings,  it  is  easier  to  conceive  than  to 
accomplish ;  that  "  the  will  is  infinite,  and  the 
execution  confined  ;  that  the  desire  is  boundless, 
and  the  act  a  slave  to  limit."     Malone. 


Queen  Anne  Street,  Hast, 
October  25,  1790. 


END   OP   VOL.    I. 


T.  DAVISON,  Lombard-street, 
Whitefriars,  London. 


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